So Close So Far (Revised)
by KittyMayhem
Summary: A revision to the original So Close, So far. The gang takes a break from the norm and go to Daphne's Uncle's house for a wedding and some fun. Fred and Shaggy stop skirting the issue of them in the same sentence. Fred/Shaggy Slash, OOC, Angst, Sap, language: COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**  
I do not in any way, shape, and/or form own Scooby Doo, its characters, or anything creepy that goes on in the series. I do, however, own the right to manipulate anything I see fit.

I also do not own the songs I happen to place in here. I like 'em though, and you should like 'em too dang it!

* * *

AN:

Before you get your panties in a bunch (men, yes I like that on you, stop with your judging), I was feeling a certain way. This isn't a copy of the original So Close, So Far, but a revised version that is a bit more mature.

Who am I kidding? Look, I wanted to revise it because I feel, personally, that my writing has grown since I first published it. Also, I was feeling a bit remorseful for losing touch with the woman who allowed this story onto her site in my attempt to get back into the writing game. I don't know where she is or how she's doing, but if anyone knows the person behind the **Grey Law Database**, let her know that this revision was done and dedicated with her in mind. Her challenge allowed me to stretch my fingers, and while my life is different from those days, I still owe a lot to her.

I will leave the original up for you to enjoy as well. Like I said, this is my progression in writing.

And...yeah, I tried to incorporate this better for the sequel. :)

The original So Close, So Far can be read here: s/5172913/1/So-close-So-Far

The sequel In and out of Reach (wip) can be read here: s/5517837/1/In-and-Out-of-Reach

* * *

Bold italics - **_'thoughts'  
_**Bold font - **rhetorical questions  
**Italics- "_Lyrics_" _/Lyrics/_

* * *

**_Part 1:_** So far away

* * *

**12:35 p.m.:**

The tinny sound of the old girl rattled his brain and his body if he pushed her too hard. She was old and getting older with no foreseeable future in sight for how long she would last in the coming days. He hated not knowing. He hated it and the dry coughing wheeze like pop of the muffler when something stuck under the hood and had the insides smelling of whatever was burning. Some days it was coolant, other days it was oil, and most times the gas got more turn inside the cabin than in the tank.

Getting her fixed was out of the question. He fingered the handle he had in his hand and shook his head when the numbers came racing at him for parts and things of the like. Classic ladies like this one needed the finest parts from their day to keep running, and this old girl had seen her productions end long ago. The jobs used to maintain her were far and few now as their teenage lives had taken on the mantle of adulthood and put them in the real world where a steady paycheck was needed to keep things like her alive. Besides which, of the jobs they had taken on the road that was still addled with their youthfulness, these days it was much more common to run into something that left them wishing for that same ignorance they had before they ran into these things. There were some truly disturbed people in the world, and other things he would rather leave under the dark veil they'd been ripped from. Regardless of the world and its eccentricities, he knew that the old girl was a goner the moment she'd sputtered, coughed, and wheezed her way right back into Volkswagen heaven on the third attempt to get her up and running for a trip she just would not make.

The final touch was the handle that broke off the moment he'd tried to open her doors. It was a sign that it was time to move on and she was finally done with their adventures.

"You're still mourning her, aren't you."

It was said as more of a statement than a question, posed by a man who understood the seriousness of this. He nodded brusquely, clearing his throat and wiping at his face to keep himself intact. He bit his lip as a slender hand clapped him on his shoulder. He got a firm shake and he straightened himself up.

Allergies were so fickle these days.

"Like, are you all right?"

"Y-yeah." He coughed, cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. "Um, I'm fine. She was a beauty though."

"Yeah man...it does. But it's for the best. You've had her since your parents co-signed for it. They called her Junk on wheels I believe."

He laughed bitterly at that. "They still do. I had this girl for eight glorious years….I'm going to miss her."

"Me too, man...me too."

Like many who mourned properly of a death like this, he bowed his head. Well, he tried to, but it was hard when the snickers kept coming from the girls, keeping him from mourning too deeply like men should when their cars died. He spun, glaring at them trying desperately not to giggle but failing miserably.

In the end, his face proved to be too much. They cracked up and down on the floor.

"You girls have no respect!"

They laughed even harder. Bright blue eyes watered only by tears of laughter peered up at him before closing against an uncontrollable fit of giggles. "Please tell me you're not mourning the van," she wheezed. His solemn look only kept her holding her gut in hysterics. "Oh my god..."

"Give me a break here!"

"How about we give you a pill?" the other laughed. She wiped her eyes beneath those familiar frames; snickering all the while she managed to get up off of her knees. "Honestly Fred, it's just a car!"

"It's a Classic Volkswagen! You can't find vehicles like this anymore...and she brought us everywhere..."

"Looks like she got sick of us—"

"Daphne—"

"—And it's not like you didn't get another one," she pointed out. She managed to get back to her feet as well, dusting off the latest fashion ensemble with her perfectly manicured nails. Her svelte body spun on her three inch pumps and she pointed, showcasing the new machine with a gesticulated wave of her arm. She was waiting for them to get in it. She could keep waiting. He pouted at her and Daphne cackled. "You've had this one for a week now!"

"And?!"

"You didn't even paint it!"

"Hey, we don't say anything to you when you're mourning over the dryer that fried!" his best friend shot. "Have some respect!"

"Reah! Rome REPECT!"

She glared at the duo, hands placing themselves on her slender hips. "If I recall, I seem to remember you two trying to make s'mores with it."

"Hey, the commercial said it could do it! Besides...we were hungry!"

"REAH!"

"And you had nothing better to do than test out that theory on a blow dryer that cost me seventy bucks?"

Their resident hippie snorted and turned his nose up at the very idea of spending that much on a blow dryer. A meal that had all four courses and a dessert tray? Yeah, sure, every single time! That thing? "Pfft. Like, you need to get a refund, like pronto." The Great Dane aside him agreed, getting a bright righteous laugh out of their local all American jock. He smiled at the hippie, glad for the support and the attempt to make him feel better about this. "Like, you really shouldn't buy anything that says it can do something and it doesn't like, deliver!"

"Shaggy!"

"I was doing you a favor. And speaking of Deliver…"

Velma cut him off at the bit before he could salivate over the prospect of invisible food. "Oh no! We can stop on the way there," she instructed. She shoved her glasses up on her small nose a bit in mirth. "Besides, didn't you just eat an hour ago?"

"Yeah! But, like, that was an hour ago! Scoob and I are practically starving now!"

The Great Dane whimpered and threw himself on the floor. His owner would have joined him had Velma not pulled four snacks out of her pocket and thrown it at them. Those things didn't have a chance and would have been gone faster if they didn't have to chew things. They were back to life and on board with food a little later though, "But not more than a half hour, cause like, I have a fast metabolism," Shaggy joked, which only had Fred laughing at this little lot of theirs all over again.

It was always like this. Fred—who usually had plans of grandeur—would be pouting about something gone horridly awry, Daphne and Velma would mock his manliness openly, and it would be the resident Hippie of their lot and his goofy dog Shaggy and Scooby to come along and bring him out of his little funk. The girls would lighten up soon enough and the day would move on, though most days they weren't out on the road like they used to be looking for mysteries to solve on their own. No, that sort of died when the mysteries started coming to them. It didn't stop them from looking now and again, for the sake of nostalgia and to keep from settling completely in one place for too long. Settling had been something they had tried before and it hadn't ended well for anyone.

Fred took a last look upon the old girl. He placed his hand upon her rusted grill, reminded of just how many times she rammed into something or someone's contraption. It would surely fall off if he tried it now. It was one of many things about this old girl that made leaving her a little more bearable. Her paint was chipped and faded with rush spots beneath the many layers that had been painted over it, her engine beyond his magic touch, and her insides were old, tattered, and worn through to creak ominously at the slightest touch. The faded words on her dubbed name were still there, but the "Mystery" had now become how she'd managed to run this long.

Fred didn't want to think about it too much or wander back before the short two years before her death. He kept the tick out of his jaw and looked at the much newer model of the same brand that brought with it the comforts of today and left the option of roughing it in the dust. The newest member of their family sat pretty on the end of the drive way, revved up and ready to go toward wherever they would go. Her paint new, her insides flawless, and her engine a long ways from sputtering, she was in tip top shape.

But she wasn't home or even remotely broken in.

What was home anymore anyhow?

"We have to go, you guys!" Daphne called. She was already by the doors, tapping her watch restlessly when she saw the time. "We were supposed to be on the road fifteen minutes ago!"

"And WHY are we ALL going to see Dear Uncle Liam?" Shaggy groused tiredly. "Like...it's not a ghost or anything else, is it?"

It was an honest question, and they were genuinely shocked when she shook her head and said, "No silly! I was invited to my cousin's wedding, and you're my added guests."

"Oh. Wait, what WEDDING?!"

"As in, tuxedoes?" Fred murmured. "None of which we have?"

"And dresses?" Velma inquired irritably holding the bridge of her nose, "Which we also **don't** have?"

"Hey, I'm all for it if there's free eats!" Shaggy exclaimed. "Weddings are only second best to buffet tables..."

"Why'd do you say that?"

"At a buffet table, I don't have to worry about stains!"

She held her head a little more. Fred snickered, "You asked for that one."

Daphne cut them all off with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about all that," she said. "All of that is taken care of. All we have to do is show up. Besides," she said flipping a bit of her long hair back, "We **need** a weekend to relax."

And they did. It was a point of tension within their group after two years of things in the dark making themselves known and rocking their known world of masks and crime so far to the left that Shaggy **still** twitched from the last misadventure. Driving from place to place and stumbling into god knows what half the time was giving Shaggy honest to god gray hairs. Why he wasn't white haired and paler than he was, was beyond Fred. Scooby was no better. The Great Dane jumped at the smallest thing these days. It could have been anything, and he would still run scrambling for a way out.

Their genius was no better. Velma looked like she could use a couple of nights where this thing called thinking just didn't exist. She was always immersed in something, and lately it had been in the books of her bookstore to balance them outside of trying to unravel what was real and what wasn't. The light bags under her eyes couldn't be overlooked with the coffee she quickly finished off. They were noticeable when she rubbed her face under the rims of her glasses reflecting the early hour of today. Her sleepless nights were catching up to her.

"Come on! Let's get going already!"

As for Daphne, she was as refreshed and eager to go as ever. She was the picture of perfection, which was a testament as to just how much effort she put into keeping anyone one from noticing just how tired she was of being the chick chased down by perverts and sexist pigs thinking she was the easy target. Her black belt in karate told those idiots a different story, but the running and monotonous crap wore her out as well despite her fresh appearance. Daphne was a Blake after all. She couldn't go anywhere looking like anything less that Daphnesque, which in turn was part of the reason they were late now. She still motioned for them to get a move on. It was a long drive.

Fred sighed and reluctantly nodded. A break would do them some good.

"Are you driving?"

Well, SOME. Once again he was the driver of their merry little bandwagon and cranking the new still unpainted mystery machine with little more than a twist of his wrist. There were bags in the trunk and a couple on the roof tied down with some cables, those up top another reason why they were running late. Daphne was in the center seat aside him and Velma in her respective seat on the passenger side. He head fell against the window as he put the car in motion. He checked the rearview mirror. Shaggy and Scooby were already making themselves comfortable in the backseats, prepped to snore their way there if possible. Velma was already half gone, so it was just he and Daphne in the front as he pulled onto the road.

It was until she pulled her headphones out and sat back to zone out herself.

**_Looks like it's just me and you brain..._**

* * *

**_3:49 p.m.:_**

_"I know sorries just wouldn't do it...  
Her heart is obliterated,  
I'm trying to travel through  
but it's like  
Moving Mountains..."_

The smooth baritone voice singing a piece of pop's entourage from a mixed channel stirred Shaggy from his sleep. He'd been out like a light from the moment his head hit the back cushions of a seat that hadn't been in the other vehicle, which was akin to sleeping on clouds in the most expensive hotel money could buy. His tiredness was owed more to late shifts and other odd jobs piling up before the lull usually happened and he was free for a little while to veg out. Of course some of these odd jobs placed him in the modern world of teen melancholy, forced to manage or teach those zit faced brats that moaned more about serving their fellow peers than learning what a decent wage could do for a person. Then there were the ones he didn't readily brag about, mainly because it involved fast paced movement behind a florescent lit bar, pouring drinks of plenty down the throats of those who would gladly run up their tabs as he was deafened by the DJ of the night with their chosen mix of whatever came to mind. Spiraling lights would come to visit from time to time to place a handle on the rowdy crowds getting too liquored up to think about why accosting the bar tender was always a bad idea, but at his age things like that were welcome and normal like they should be.

He was always glad to come home and drop in his matress and die a little for a few hours, and he'd fully expected to snore all the way to wherever they were headed. However his sleep was being pulled back by a voice he hadn't heard sing in a while…and it was a good reason to crack open his eye.

The vehicle was still moving, steady and flawless in her motion. There were no bumps, cracks, that loud popping of something breaking, or that smell of fumes coming from the **inside** of the car. A part of him missed it, but the other part—his back—didn't quite care. He noticed the sun had gotten past the highest point and settled midway into the west, the heat of the day waning and making him wonder how long he'd be able to tolerate the unfamiliar coolness of circulated air. It felt heavenly but foreign; so used to the windows being rolled down as a source to cool off or a couple of ice packs resting on his back to keep him from balking at his own sticky discomfort.

Before, he may have been openly roasted and willing to ride up on the old girl just to get some air. Now he enjoyed the luxury of not having those windows open, bugs flying in, and smelling the outside and whatever was buried in the air. He sat up a little further and spied Scooby lying across his favorite spot, his head pressed in Daphne's lap with her hand draped over his head and his rear pushed against Velma's hip as the brunette slept soundly with a small smile on her face.

Shaggy, realizing he was looking backwards rather than forward, realized he was in the front.

**_How…did I get up here?_**

_"But I keep climbing  
and hoping things will change;  
When the sky turns grey  
and the water from the rain  
washes progress away...  
It's like  
Moving Mountains..."_

He stopped looking into the rearview and tilted his head to the left. Fred was in his direct line of sight, reclined in his seat with one arm on the wheel and the other fiddling with tapping his leg. His mind was on the song, his soft crooning accompanying the sound of the Volkswagen moving. He didn't even look to press something on the dashboard—a button. The song ended and something else popped up, the bright blue of the station flickering as the system grabbed another station; another song from wherever its digital database lie.

The familiar pluck of a chord against the bass made him fully aware. He wanted to hit his head a little bit on the window but resisted, smiling ruefully at nothing and everything. What was his life right now? He chose to lean back instead and let the length of his hair fall with him as he sung the way he tended to when it was just them back then. "_Cause I've run a mile...In my head..._"

Fred smiled quietly, turning onto the next patch of dirt leading them further out into the country. Like the turn, he didn't miss a beat of the song. "_Didn't listen to...a thing that you said..._"

"_But it's the simple things...that make you smile..._"

"_...It's the simple things...that make you smile..._"

Shaggy nodded. He loved simple things; simply things like singing a song in that corny manner that made them brethren of a type that could be close without being uncomfortable about it in the view of others. Singing like this kept him mellow, though the words coming from him next were an honest question that he thought about in the privacy of his own company. _"So what went wrong?"_

_"Was it me that let you down again?"_

Shaggy didn't know. Some piece of him bartered that question but he could only sing, _"So what went wrong?"_

Fred sighed but didn't miss a beat. _"How could I ever, lose my best friend?"_

That was a topic he wasn't quite ready to broach again, not even two years after coming back from his "sabbatical". Fred didn't call him on it and Shaggy was grateful. He slouched a little more and nudged Fred lightly with his green eyes. "Hey...did I sleepwalk into the front again?"

"Yep."

"Good. I'm tired of getting the backseat."

"Why don't you try hopping in the front from now on?"

He shook his head, almost leaning forward enough to place his head on the dashboard. His shaggy head of brown just barely covered the beginnings of his face, giving him that youthful uncaring look of rebel sitting back without a troubling thought to share. His smile lit up the cabin, and Fred couldn't keep himself from smiling back. "Are you, like, serious man?" he laughed softly. "Daphne would beat the tar out of me...then you!"

"You could outrun her any day and you know it."

"Maybe...doesn't mean I want to. Too much effort," he said before Fred could call him on that open-ended response. He grinned in triumph, running a hand through his shoulder length locks. Growing up meant change, and part of that change was to rid himself of that shaggy bowl cut that he'd kept because it was appealing to a certain someone. He'd stopped grabbing the scissors and just let it be, and it had turned into a massive sheen of rugged silk old men of the chopper would die for. One would swear—and Daphne often did—that he'd purposely gone out and done something to it. He hadn't.

He could swear she was muttering in her sleep about stylists, and Shaggy laughed. "She'd murder me for my hair, and my love of s'mores!"

"...did you honestly—?"

"Yeah man and it was awesome! That'll teach her for not telling me about my stove."

Fred knew there was a story behind the s'more incident. Shaggy wasn't as simple as just being blatantly curious, which got a laugh out of him as he reached to nudge Shaggy on his shoulder in play. "I told you not to let her cook!"

"Man, she's a chick! I thought she could!"

"Riiiight. Who are we talking about now?"

"Tch, whatever. I got my s'mores."

Fred's laughter was something Shaggy missed more than he let on. He didn't laugh as often as he used to, or smile. He certainly didn't sing much anymore, and Shaggy could only wonder at the reasons why aside the blaring obvious lump sitting between them metaphorically. The joking was muted and careful, the touches stilted and plotted, and if that tick in Fred's jaw appeared Shaggy would shut down and just sit and not talk. Growing up meant change…but this change wasn't something that was welcome to their once easy camaraderie. They weren't like they used to be.

The only thing they did that was the same now was drive.

How did it all go so horridly wrong?

He lifted his head at the end of the song, and tried not to think about it. He knew where they had gone wrong, and it was partially his fault. The steady strum of another guitar singing away through the speakers, kept him from going down that road, and kept him from his best friend's worried gaze. His brooding always had Fred's attention, even if they were driving wherever the road took them.

"_I know I've been mistaken...  
but just give me a break  
and see the changes that I've made..."_

Fred wanted to roll his head forward but he was driving.** Shaggy...**

At least they had this; these short conversations that ended with them singing things that were relevant enough to know their meaning without directly talking about it because feelings? Dudes? NO. It was just messy outside of the death of a beloved car and Fred wasn't ready to think about it like that. Shaggy certainly wasn't and neither man would push the other to "share" their feelings like the girls demanded at times.

They liked these short conversations with words littered between each verse, a calling that they knew and understood better than anyone. Fred could hear the unsaid question lingering in the air when he opened his throat to the next song verse.

"_I've got some imperfections...  
But how can you collect them all  
and throw them in my face?_"

**Are you still mad about that?**

He answered slowly and strongly, startling Fred with the power behind his voice. Shaggy never sung like this...not when he could help it.

"_And you always find a way  
To keep me right here waiting..."_

**Does it matter? I'm here...you're here. It's enough.**

It had to be. This was stable, them, and normal and Shaggy wanted to hold onto this and just not remember that THING that kept wondering why he hadn't just come home sooner.

He kept singing…sure and true, unaware of the waking girls behind him until Scooby let out a soft whine and brought everything crashing back down.

"...Shaggy?!"

He let out an emphatic "Fuck!" that had the girls gasping and Fred laughing so hard he almost drove off the road.

* * *

**_5:53 p.m.:_**

The girls, as lovely as they were, were annoying by the time they got to where they needed to be. They had not stopped hounding Shaggy until he caved in and sang ONE song with them which had them asking more about his hidden talents, which were his and hidden and never to be unveiled thank you very much! He could sing when he wanted, and he didn't sing in fear of people pestering him like this.

Fred parked the car and turned off the engine, stalling long enough to see Shaggy flee the confines of the passenger seat. Velma, Daphne, and Scooby were out seconds later leaving him alone with the sudden face of an attendant perched on his side. He smiled sheepishly at the young man, scooting out of the car in time for it to be swarmed with a bunch of people he hadn't seen come or go. He should have been used to it by now.

Every time they went to visit one of Daphne's relatives they wound up surrounded by all kinds of hired help paid well to do their jobs. Butlers, Maids, Valet; if it could move to help it did and service was always given with a smile. He'd learned not to get in their way, despite his tempted motions to unload his new baby and stow her away like he should have been. He forced himself to sidestep and leave it to the butlers, knowing that they wouldn't see the car until it was time to go and their bags would vanish until they found their rooms tonight.

It probably was a good thing it was going on six.

"Uncle Liam!"

"Daphne my dear! Welcome, welcome! We've been expecting you!"

Fred ignored the sound of his car being parked somewhere else. Velma stopped tugging on Shaggy's arm, and Scooby stopped sniffing her out for those hidden snacks she kept. Fred parked himself on Shaggy's free side in time for '_Uncle Liam_' to stand before them.

He was a man of a good build, muscular in his arms and tall, a trait of the male Blakes that couldn't be overlooked literally. Fred had filled out himself with a late growth spurt and stood just a smidge higher than Shaggy, but Liam was taller than the both of them. However, his girth was one of a well fed man, jolly in and out of the home. A thought of Santa passed, but Liam was too slender for that role and much too far south. He did hold his belly as a deep rolling laugh greeted them, amused at how they'd stopped frozen in their steps to properly gawk at him.

It was then that it all went to pot with Shaggy's sudden stumble over his own foot, Fred's dive to right him and falling right alongside him and Velma letting go too quick to stop her own flailing butt from hitting the floor. Add Scooby running to help Shaggy and getting caught in the mess and it was a heap of bodies on the floor.

Fred stared up at the skies. Shaggy moaned sideways with his face panted somewhere hard. Velma shoved her skirt down and blushed and Scooby sat down like he'd planned this, snickering as his tail wagged back and forth.

"Rorry Raggy..."

"Oh, goodness!" Liam rumbled deeply. A large hand covered his red beard; a subtle stroke keeping the laughter at bay. "Are you lads and lass all right?"

A little dirt didn't kill anyone. Concrete did...and it **smart**. Shaggy sat up long before Fred, rubbing his aching elbows and wincing at the scrapes he'd gotten. **_'Another set to add to the collection...'_**

"Shaggy?"

"I'm fine Fred...nothing I can't handle."

"Nonsense my boy," Uncle Liam said. "Come now...we'll get this looked at and cleaned properly. No use in getting hurt before the party!"

Party? What party?! The boys and Velma looked at Daphne shrugging at them. "I forgot," she said. "We usually throw a party the night before the wedding to loosen us up." The baleful looks they gave her were not lost on the redhead who ignored them and chirped, "Oh come on, it'll be fun!"

"Fun? I thought relaxing was fun," Shaggy muttered. He started to get up, only to have another set of hands lifting him faster. Fred stood as his support, pulling him to stand upright.

"…oh…fu—crap!"

"...Shags...are you okay?!"

Shaggy hated his feet at times. They always landed him in awkward positions. He was looking up this time, cheeks redder than ever and his arms grabbing hold of the back of Fred's shirt as he tried to right himself. Of course this was NOT how it looked to anyone that thought this was funny. It looked like something out of a bad chick flick, with his arms locked around Fred's shoulders, his body pressed flush against the stronger body with his own back bowed from the way he'd tripped right into those arms draped right around his waist.

That was DAPHNE'S thing, NOT his! Her laughter was so not helping him right now. She was supposed to be the helpless one here, clinging to Fred and hoping to God he wouldn't move because _her_ foot hurt like hell. Shaggy tried to place it back down but that foot wasn't having it and his wince only made Fred hold him tighter to keep him from hopping away.

"FRED!"

And of course the jock would somehow maneuver him to land right on his back and carry him like he wasn't heavy at all. "Just sit tight."

"What do you mean?! I can—"

"No you can't so shut up."

Shutting up was good. Burying his face somewhere where no one could see him was even better. He groaned pathetically into his hands and was carried off into the Estate everyone was too busy to awe over.

His emphatic cursing this time had the girls laughing and Fred keeping his eyes on his path this time.

* * *

I miss my Zune.

R.I.P.

Head for the next part while I mourn.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Duex!

**AN:**  
I am pretty sure you see just...how much changed. :) This is the adult version baby!

* * *

**_Part 2:_** Closer

* * *

**6:13 p.m.:**

"Better?"

The urge to kick Fred in the face wasn't as volatile now, or appealing. Shaggy sighed and flexed his foot, testing the wrapping of the ace bandage around his foot. He knew it would hold. Fred had done this once too often to forget how now and didn't that bring about memories of idiots in masks running around tripping people the hell up? He sighed tiredly, putting his foot back down against his human footrest. "...yeah. Thanks."

"No problem, Shags."

Shaggy was proud of his ability to not shudder on cue. He hadn't heard that nickname used as often as he'd heard it today. It was Fred's staple; the label that just stuck in his privileges reserved for best friends. Fred pressed a careful hand to the heel of his foot and asked, "Can you walk on it?"

If he couldn't, he was going to make due. There was no room for a sequel! "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"...if I say yes, you're going to tote me around anyway aren't you?"

Blonde locks falling in and out of his face didn't hide the smug knowing grin on that angular work of art. Fred was such a jock that if he were to cut himself sports equipment would come flying out. It still felt right to Shaggy to associate that word with Fred, even if that teen jock was a grown one and not playing some major sport for a living. It was mainly because of the girth of those arms currently bare and on display and sporting a tattoo that had to be recent because Shaggy KNEW that wasn't there a couple of months ago. Summer days usually meant slow times, and the usual ensemble of their taste in clothing had been swapped out for sensible gear. Fred was currently in a tank top, just as white as the usual tops he wore were, and he was squatting in a part of denim cargos that rode lower than should be humanly allowed.

Shaggy wondered if Fred knew that the reason so many women flocked to him was because of his cut self.

"Shaggy?"

"...man, how the hell do you manage to stay in shape?" he murmured without meaning to sound like he was drooling. He wasn't but he was allowed to be envious. "Like...it's unreal."

Fred gave him a strange look. "Same way you stay thin," he murmured. "Running away."

"Hey now! If you wanna live—"

"—You run like hell," he laughed silently. Shaggy clapped his hand on Fred's rock hard shoulder. Now this was normal. The joking like this should have always been this easy and for a moment Shaggy expected Fred to clap his leg and tell him to get up.

Fred clapped his leg alright, but it wasn't that brotherly clap that meant move his ass. It was questioning, hesitant, and loaded with questioned that had Shaggy blushing to the tips of his ears.

"Fred..."

"Hmm?"

"Like...what are you doing?"

"Wondering why the hell your freaking legs are so** firm**," he muttered. His right hand had taken hold of his left calf, right above where he'd finished wrapping his left ankle. He mindlessly let his fingers wander over the firm muscle, tracing the indents of perfect sculpture and the darkness of an old faded scar. Something about this particular scar never really rubbed him right. It was deep and jagged, tearing into the once perfect muscle. Flashes of that horrifying moment played briefly and Fred shoved them back, settled when he remembered that no one was bleeding and he wasn't trying to shove his fist in the face that had caused it.

He didn't ask about the other faded marks. This one he knew about, hated, and could touch without thinking too much about the reasons why. The healing of this particular one took longer than they all thought and it was sobering about the dangers of their occupation of hobby. It was a reminder, damaging forever and always. Fred stopped his thoughts again before he could go down that road and poked playfully at the smooth skin. "And shaved..."

"...swimming."

Um, news much? "You swim? Since when?"

"It was part of therapy...and it kind of stuck."

Therapy. Now there was a word some people needed to hear. However, when it came to that scar, this sort of therapy wasn't something he wanted Shaggy to add to his past adventures. Another curious caress of known scar came and went. Fred settled for tracing the edge of the bandages. Shaggy relaxed a bit, curiosity piqued when he thought about something else.

"So…what's up with the ink?"

"Velma."

"Velma?"

"She got tired of me talking about it…dared me to do it." Fred shrugged. "So I did. No regrets."

"Really."

"Yes."

"So, how come she's not in here monitoring you like usual?" Shaggy teased. "I thought she didn't trust you with anything or any part of someone else's body?"

"I made that brace tight like I should have, not to cut off the circulation of her arm, thanks," he snorted under his own laughter, " Besides, I think she got side tracked with the lay of the land." He gave a dry chuckle. In actuality, he'd managed to snatch Shaggy up before she could say anything. He was probably going to get an earful for it later...**_if_** she could catch him. "Besides...you trust me, right?"

"Of course! You're, like, my best human bud!"

It was just like Shaggy to say something like that.

"Raggy?"

It was just like Scooby to tentatively poke his head in the door and see if things were all right. Shaggy gave that grin he reserved for his best pal, the Great Dane that gingerly trotted into the room and sat down at their feet. Shaggy's nimble and thin fingers snaked out to rub Scooby's ear, quickly finding that spot that would have had the dog purring if he were a cat. He wasn't, but he could put a cat to shame with that whole nine lives thing.

Fred would swear Scooby smirked at his open thoughts but it could have easily been gas. No need to dwell on anything heavy now anyhow. "I suppose you want to limp to dinner?" Fred teased lightly. "Or...should I carry you again?"

Shaggy pretended to think about it. "How about...you just help me along?" he mused. "Like...be my crutch."

"I suppose..."

"…You're the reason my mouth is losing its filter."

"Really."

"Yes…and you're, like, still going to carry me, aren't you..."

In the end, it wasn't worth fighting over. Scooby walked out in front of them, snickering the whole while at Fred helping Shaggy along. He might have shifted his weight to take on the brunt of them both a bit, but it was the thought that counted.

Scooby glanced at them from his lead. They were still bickering, but smiling at one another. Scooby wasn't some dumb ordinary dog that would wag his tail their compatible nature making him think of fun times ahead. No. He'd been with these two dumbbells long enough to see how Fred would lighten up when Shaggy was around and how Shaggy would calm down and relax for once in days. They were a balance of one another, despite that strange time apart they never talked openly about, and Scooby wasn't going to push them too unless they were ready.

He did shake his head in lieu of the smell of simmering beef down the hall. It was more appealing than their mingled frustrations covered up with stupid misconceptions, especially when the maids giggled at the obvious flirting between the two, not that they would **_ever_** see that themselves.

Humans were the strangest creatures ever, Scooby decided. Strange...and **_slow_**.

* * *

**6:25 p.m.:**

They made it to the dining room. It took some fumbling and a few digs into Shaggy's side to get him to relent to Fred's superior logic of carrying him, but they managed to get there without looking like they'd spent five whole minutes trying to catch their breath from laughing so hard at one point of their journey. Dinner was being served and Shaggy's stomach announced its intent to inhale whatever was placed before it as a sacrifice.

Fred just did not know where Shaggy put all that food.

The spread was as massive as they expected it to be. It was, after all, a known trait of Daphne's family. Everything was done with taste and lavish, though in the eyes of the Blakes this was a **small** get together meal. Small meant a party of at least fifteen, with their five to add to the mix. So of course that table was long, and yes, they were seated near the head with dear old Uncle Liam.

Fred would have sworn this was another job if Daphne hadn't flagged them down.

"Guys...up here!" she called. "Come, sit!"

Two seats remained unclaimed in wait of them. Across from one another. Shaggy unwrapped his arm from around Fred's neck and made for the first one on the left side. Velma stood, helping them out by pulling Shaggy's chair out for him. He sat down in relief and excitement, rubbing his hands together in the presence of that wonderful thing called food. Behind him, Velma threw a questioning glance at Freddy. He shrugged, not knowing what that meant and slipped by her in time to claim her seat.

"Juvenile..." she muttered.

"Juvenile got your seat."

Scooby was already seated on the other side of Shaggy. He looked at her and shook his head. It wasn't happening. She sighed and resigned herself to the sweet scent of Daphne's latest perfume and the promise that her allergies were going to be screaming at her later. She sat down as Daphne looked to her right, smiling at the two gentlemen seated at the first two seats. Uncle Liam was at the head of the table naturally, and gave a little grin spying them.

Shaggy wanted to fill his stomach and not think about the soft scent of Fred lingering on his skin from whatever he'd worn today. Fred was going over the books in his head, a welcome way to keep from pondering too much about certain hippies and how he wanted to laugh like they had again. Velma was seconds from muttering under her breath about pelting Fred in the head with a biscuit, because he was an obvious jerk that delighted in their strange ways of communicating.

Daphne put it all to a halt by snapping her fingers. "Whatever you're thinking, stop it," she chided. "We're here to have fun tonight!"

"Like, no one's mind wandering," Shaggy said. "I'm like, all for eating now and not talking with my mouth full!"

"REAH! EAT!"

"Before we do that, I'd like to introduce you to the marrying couple," she said. They gave one another sheepish looks and floated their attention to her hand showcasing the direction of said couple. It was only right to greet the ones that were the cause of such festivities. However as they moved to congratulate the bride and groom, they found there was no staple held to the ideology of the stereotype they were expecting.

"So, like, where's the lucky groom and bride to be?" Shaggy asked.

"Right here. This is Cousin Jarrod...and his fiancé, Darrel."

Shaggy had never been so glad to not eat before. He would have choked and that would have been drama and a waste of food. He settled for biting the tip of his tongue as his surprise got the better of him. Fred jarred him out of his shock with a firm shove in his side. Fred's ears were redder than the cherry tomatoes on the salad still waiting to be speared to death by forks all around. Shaggy knew him well enough to know that while his own shock rendered him speechless, Fred's over active imagination had spat out some vivid imagery and left him stiff in his nonchalance about the whole thing.

Shaggy nudged him this time and gave him a look that only made it worse for the blonde.

"...you don't want to know," Fred murmured.

Jarrod, or course, was a red head. Most of the people in Daphne's family were by nature or by choice. His light blue eyes crinkled in amusement at the duo he'd come to know as Freddie and Shaggy. Fair skinned by nature—like most of the Blakes—his slightly freckled but strong hand rested over his prominent chin. If it wasn't for the suit and the posture, they might have assumed he was a lumber jack. He certainly had the build of one. Muscles were defined and hidden somewhat under the dress shirt he wore. The sleeves were rolled up giving them a good view of those massive things he called forearms.

Well, maybe to Shaggy, who suddenly felt the need to fold his thin arms in his lap. Fred didn't hide his impression. He absently wondered if the man trained for a living, or was naturally built that way. Velma was currently trying not to match Freddie. It proved to be of no use when he smiled and laughed deeply at the gang.

"You guys are definitely characters," Jarrod chuckled. "Don't forget, we derive from the Scottish lads now, eh?"

"Who could forget," Darrel grumbled playfully. "You like tossing anything and everything...and the skirt is a DEAD giveaway..."

"It's a Kilt, and yeah, it is. Mom should have known."

Darrel shook his head and laughed soundly at the smirk he was given. His tanned skin was a nice contrast against the fair skinned hand taking his. Jet black hair highlighted only by subtle streaks of blonde were the only clue they were getting as to his heritage. His face was a mix of masculine meets feminine, like one of those new pop stars that looked too good for his own right. Slender but firm chin; high cheekbones; sexy eyes...

Shaggy blinked a bit. Since when did he openly note someone's eyes as sexy? In his defense, they were and there was nothing else to read into it. Darrel's eyes were a strange mix of green and blue, brightening to a soft sea like color when he looked up at Jarrod. They could only imagine what color they were when they were alone...and then it was time to change that whole train of thought.

He had been hanging around Fred for far too long.

Darrel was tossed somewhere between Shaggy's height and Fred's build. He wasn't as built as either Fred or Jarrod, but he had a nice slender figure made for someone like Jarrod. Easy to hold, and easy to lift. He, too, was dressed to kill in a sleeveless mock sweater tank, and from what Velma saw earlier, leather pants that fit him like a glove. He was eye candy through and through, and damned if everyone didn't know it. His slightly softer voice startled them a bit. They weren't expecting it to be quite that deep...or soothing.

Noting her friends' reactions, Daphne smiled sheepishly at them. "Did I happen to mention that they were two men, in love, and not taking 'no' for an answer?"

They shook their heads. It wasn't the fact that it was two men. Oh _NO_. It was the fact that it was a BLAKE, and Daphne didn't care less.

Scooby didn't care either. He was hungry and he let them know with a paw slapping the table top. Up when one of the drumsticks and down his throat it went. They laughed and joined in, digging into the food so generously placed in lieu of the morning's events.

Although Shaggy silently vowed to find out just what had Freddie blushing so much. It wasn't like him. **_'Usually.'_**

* * *

**9:35 p.m.:**

**_'Okay...I'm full, content, and tired...so why am I _****here****_?'_**

Shaggy couldn't answer his own question. Dinner was a fulfilling affair and if was another one of their misadventures, this would be the opportune time to explore places they didn't need to be in, to be chased by something odd and screaming bloody murder, or to going to bed to be chased sometime that night because what was sleep anyhow?

None of that happened tonight. Shaggy wasn't sure if he should run to get the ball going or just be relieved this wasn't a masquerade ball.

Right after dessert had been devoured, the gang had traveled to the outside of the Villa into the back gardens where said ceremony was to be held. Velma, by then, was popping her first bout of allergy pills, already put off by the floral pollen seeded throughout the mansion. It wasn't as bad as she made it out to be but she was better safe than sorry later when she was up all night with a clogged nose and a box of tissues. Her words, not his, directed at Daphne trying not to laugh at her temperamental ways. They traveled along one of several gravel paths leading into the heart of the garden, passing the range of exotic and succulent flora known by Velma—resident genius yes indeed—and admired by all.

Fred couldn't quite keep his fingers from lingering on the petals of the many velvet roses, smiling to himself as they headed for the thunder upon the ground. The vibrations of that noise were deeper as they got closer to the opening of an enclosed tent welcoming them into a fray they didn't have time to visit often enough on their own.

From the outside, it appeared to be nothing more than a blanket of white within the green of life sitting behind that building. Inside was another layer, another tale hidden under a blank canvas and alive with means to let loose for the night without repercussion. Shaggy kept his eyes from the bar, refusing to go over the mental list of what could be made with whatever liquor was being served tonight. He was one of the many people of all shapes and sizes within this tent here to indulge rather than serve, and indulgence wasn't something to be forsaken tonight.

Good bits of the people were family and guests for the ceremony tomorrow and were centered on the open dance floor. Those who weren't grinding to the beat were sitting, standing, laughing, and talking, or watching the commotion that was the DJ flipping out another beat. The heavy Bass that was the backdrop thrummed heavily through them, that rhythm making it hard to keep still when the air itself was vibrating with liveliness. Another lively song came to the front, one that had the crowd moving a little faster and harder because of its newness.

Daphne stole Fred's hand and yanked him on the dance floor.

"And there they go," Shaggy murmured. Velma patted his shoulder lightly, offering what sympathy she could give. However, her interests were quickly skirted to a young man taking her hand and yanking **her **on the dance floor. It probably had something to do with that halter top...and a pair of hot pants she'd been conned into on a dare. Seriously, Shaggy didn't know what was with Velma and Fred with these dares, but if they meant to make take them out of their respective comfort zones, it was working.

Velma wasn't that chick she portrayed to the outside world. She wasn't dumpy or fat or completely awkward (most times), but she certainly dressed like it. It was an opportune time to snatch a glass of whatever was on the tray of a passing server because didn't that just mess with the universe when the hippie started thinking about the fashion tastes of a bookworm and judging it.

"It's like night and day," someone said. He looked to his right and spied the soon-to-be-wed couple standing aside him. They were still dressed in their suits, though casually and not for the sake of business. Jarrod whistled low and long, spying Velma moving in a way she rarely did outside of their group. She had hips she knew how to move and could give anyone—especially that guy—a run for their money.

Shaggy grinned a bit and relaxed. Velma was smart, yes, but the girl didn't know her true potential.

"Cousin Shaggy, was it?"

"Yeah. How's it hanging?"

Darrel popped Jarrod in the side before he could answer that. "Ow! Oh come on..."

"That was too easy for you," Darrel muttered. "I think we kept that Fred guy lightheaded enough."

Fred's impression of a tomato hit a world record of some sort at dinner. He could have been drunk and they wouldn't have known. "Yeah, well..." Jarrod shrugged, smirking faintly as he looked to the dance floor, "He's fun to tease...and obvious as hell."

"Like, what are you talking about?" Shaggy asked. "Obvious about what?"

"He's got the hots for someone...and doesn't even know it."

Shaggy nodded and kept the lump in his chest in check as he poured the rest of his drink down his throat. "...you're, like, talking about Daphne, right?"

Jarrod laughed at him and shook in glee. "No, like, I'm not," he mocked playfully. "Wake up cousin, because he's **so** _not_ digging the female lass in the way you think laddie."

The Scott had to be drunk already. His incredulous look only had Darrel laughing at him next. "He's right Shaggy," he said as he was swept into the sudden captive crowd pulling at him and Jarrod to find their way on the floor. He didn't leave without shoving another drink in Shaggy's hand and patting his cheek in parting with, "He's got his eye on someone else. Trust us. We know it for a fact."

They were gone, and Shaggy nearly fell into the hole under him that appeared when his brain honed in on Velma.

**_'Velma? No way...like, UH-UH!_**

But what if—

**_'Okay, NO. NO, NO, NO.'_**

His brain was about to be disowned at this rate. He kept a small sigh to himself and thought about wandering over in the direction of the food. Good food and drink was a good way to keep his mind from being a total piece of unregulated shit. His foot was feeling better at least and the distance from where he was to the table wasn't too far for him for him to get to. Sure, Fred wasn't here acting as a crutch but he could make it a couple of steps without getting into too much trouble. Right?

_/This is sick.../_

The rip of the chord didn't strike him to the uncanny events that were about to unfold. He was too focused on his plan to notice the DJ eyeing him in the distance. Someone else was eyeing him as well, a glint of malice in their eyes when the slender arm of someone else reached out and grabbed Shaggy.

"Attention...it's time to dance!" The DJ shouted. "Get your butts on the floor and show me what you got!"

The chord ripped again, repeating it three more times before the throb of that heavy bass overwhelmed him. The scent of heavy perfume mixed with the light musk of sweat drifted heavily in his nose. For a moment he could have sworn she'd be there before him, blonde hair swaying in time with her hips; those shapely legs dancing backward on those heels just for him. Instead, he found another woman, just as shapely and deathly with looks that could have any grown man drooling at her feet. Black streaked with the fire red that was her spirit called for fingers to stroke the wild mane, eyes wide with amber smoldered and set him on fire from within. Her red lips parted a bit; her tongue snaking out just so to lick clean the dot of champagne still lingering at the corner of her mouth. Her hand kept hold of his, pulling his somewhat clumsy frame forward and into the fire.

_/Work like you're working a pole  
Shake it 'til you're shaking the floor  
Pop it like you're poppin' a cork_

_Oh, Don't stop, Don't Stop.../_

Her body was fluid with the beat, steady in its rhythm and determined in its actions. Hips tempered only by the bare minimum anyone would call pants; they enticed, called, and sung their way into the minds of everyone staring at them. He found himself captivated...captivated by the thought that she must be drunker than he'd thought originally because seriously…him?

Beer goggles did exist!

_/Jerk it like you're making it choke  
Break it like you're breaking a code  
Drop it till you're taking it lower_

_Drop it, Drop it.../_

She pressed herself close again, lips dangerously close to the underside of his chin. He could feel her warmth flowing through him, smell the sweet scent that was her laced through that interesting mix of champagne, chocolate, and something just as deadly as pure sin. Her eyes were filled with the promise that this was only the beginning. He swallowed thickly and backed up, falling into something twice as warm and much harder than she would ever be. He relaxed and promptly stiffened when it wrapped its hands on his waist.

"Fred?!"

_/This is serious  
I'm delirious  
So oblivious/_

Fred let out an uneasy breath, forcing himself not to groan. Shaggy wasn't in those infernal brown things he liked to wear tonight. No. He'd been trying not to think about it, how he managed to fit in those snug jeans that had eyes on his usually unnoted ass that Fred wanted to shove Shaggy's shirt over…but he even **that** was snug and form fitting tonight all because Daphne insisted on changing and Shaggy's wardrobe had come to light with his changing tastes.

Fred pulled him back again, hooking sure fingers into the loops of his jeans. "You wanna dance?"

Shaggy looked at him as if he was delirious. "Dance?!"

"Sure thing!"

"Fred, wait a—whoa!"

_/I could dance all night.../_

The she-harlot was pulled back into the crowd and left to seduce the unlucky man that had set his sights on her. Unfortunately for her it was no one else but Jarrod, shaking his head and plucking her upside her own. "Caitlyn...I swear," he sighed yanking her away from them, "You bring Sirens worry with that succubus act."

"He looked lonely," she smirked. "So, I offered my company."

Jarrod plucked her in the forehead again and pointed. "Not **happening**."

_/As long as it's funky.../_

Fred ignored her loud protest of shock, not in the least bit worried. He laced his hands with the slender smaller ones, grinning when she laughed and moved in time with them. Shaggy lowered his head a bit and couldn't quite keep it together when Daphne sauntered up behind Fred and grabbed his waist. He laughed, never quite noticing the blue eyes glazing over from behind. His ankle was still protesting the use of extreme dancing, but it didn't stop him or his friends from moving his hips. This wasn't quite so bad...weird, but not that bad.

_/This rhythm just makes me high.../_

Velma slipped out from before him and grabbed Daphne, pulling the taller girl aside them and dancing like two drinks would allow right then. Daphne gleefully joined in, leaving the boys to either watch or dance with themselves. Shaggy stopped for a second, finding it hard to concentrate with the heady scent of cologne and musk hitting him harder than the sweetness of that girl. He almost stumbled back, holding his head a bit when he spun to spy Fred over his shoulder.

"Fred?"

"Let's keep dancing," he said. He smiled gently as he slipped his hands into Shaggy's, pausing long enough to place his head against the nape of his neck. He wasn't used to having all that hair there, and he wasn't used to Shaggy getting all this attention. He was sure that the hippie wasn't aware of just how many people were mentally oogling his ass and physically wanting to do so under the threat of broken limbs from a blonde that didn't want to explore that feeling really. He chalked it up to not wanting his friend to be snatched by hands that didn't know how to handle him properly and left it there. After that mess with—yeah there was no need to think about her or what she'd done or seeing his friend like that ever again.

"Fred?"

Fred hummed and shoved his nose against Shaggy's cheek. "Let's have fun..." he whispered. "Let's pretend we don't have to be or do anything."

_/I'm like a junkie.../_

Shaggy turned, unsure of when Fred had gotten taller, or when his eyes ever looked like midnight pools littered with stars. He nodded, letting his drink be snatched and swallowed by Fred as his hips moved without his say so in a manner that should have stayed between him and a mirror. Fred didn't mind it much. He mirrored those movements and made his own, so immensely glad that the woman from earlier hadn't gotten to see this up close. Denied was the name of the game and he wanted to fist pump like a jersey shore jackass.

Fred lanced his fingers with Shaggy's instead, pulling him closer and headed for the floor with cat calls all around.

He was so glad they didn't dance like this all the time. Fred knew he'd die from blood loss, but where that blood would go was his own to know and no one else to wonder about or answer to. **_'I'd probably pass out either way…'_**

_/I could dance all night.../_

* * *

And some things haven't changed too much...but yes, I like the idea of Fred with a tattoo.

Next?


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**

I know the characters are a bit OOC. But I LIKE this.

* * *

**Part 3:** Can I come over?

* * *

**11:35 p.m.:**

_I know it's late  
But you're on my mind  
I'm wide awake  
And I wanna stop by  
So you can get up  
And get out of the bed  
Cause I wanna see you…_

_And I been wondering..._

The ceremony wasn't for another several hours. It was scheduled for some time in the morning at a decent hour when the heat wouldn't be unbearable for those who hated the outdoors in the summer. Staying up late partying into the night was a choice they could have taken had the prospects of hangovers and headaches not taken precedence in being able to function like they should in the coming hours. Those who remained outside drinking and partying into the night would be up and rearing to go because they were used to it or had a higher tolerance for such things. Everything would officially breakdown around one, but leaving an hour ahead wasn't a crime.

After dancing for two hours straight, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with them and it was time to retire. They headed back for the large Villa looming over them in the darkness, kissed beneath the light of a waning moon. The Head Butler was waiting for them in the vast opening that was the main room. The gang hadn't really had a moment to actually reside in their rooms or find out where their things were stored officially for the night. The staff had taken their bags shortly after they had come, and after dinner they'd only grabbed a change of clothes from where the bags had been stored for the moment. Now those bags were like placement cards in the rooms they had gone to the second level to find, following the head butler without being asked.

It took a good bit of effort to climb the thirty stairs curving upward and unto the second level. Thighs were trembling from the exertion of dancing and straight forward strenuous labor was not on the menu for anyone wearing heels. Velma had abandoned her shoes the moment she was on the landing and would have tossed them if Daphne hadn't grabbed them before she could.

"You suck," she muttered to the giggling redhead.

The Butler silently led them down the appropriate corridors, finally coming to a stop when he saw the first door of five. Daphne didn't need to be told which one was hers. She slipped into her room with a wave, and nearly closed the door on Scooby's tail when he slid in with her.

Velma was a little more than shocked. "I thought—"

Shaggy shrugged. "Scooby has his moments," he yawned. "I'm too tired to care."

"Miss Velma, your room is two doors down. Mr. Rodgers?"

"Like, yeah man?"

The butler pointed to the door adjacent from Daphne's. "Your room is there. Mr. Fred, I'm afraid the last room is being occupied by Master Jarrod," he explained. "I've been instructed to take you to the other wing, with our sincere apologies."

Now that was a first...and something they weren't used to. They had their own rooms...and they were being separated. Shaggy sobered up from his sleepy high, unable to do or say anything. The look on Fred's face was strange even in its own right. Velma was confused herself, but chalked it up to their spending nearly every waking moment with one another. She, for one, was glad for a moment of privacy and quickly took it with a bright, "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Velma," Fred called. She smiled a bit and closed herself off. The boys were left alone in an awkward silence. Fred rubbed the back of his head tiredly. "So...I'll see you in the morning?"

"Like, sure man."

"Well rested?"

"For sure! It's not like we have to get up this time!"

True. He smiled tiredly, reaching out to lightly tap Shaggy's chin. "See ya bud."

"Yeah...see ya."

Fred walked off with the Butler, leaving Shaggy alone with his hand on the door and a sudden jolt of pain he couldn't quite place. He waited until he was out of sight to limp into his room, shrug out of his clothing, and climb into the waiting king sized bed. Those four pillows sitting pretty and fluffy at the head of the bed were calling for his head in the worst way. A nice plop down worthy of a score of ten, and he was ready for his brain to shut down.

Twenty-three minutes later, he sincerely wondered WHY his brain was being a rebel tonight.

* * *

**1:47 a.m.:**

The bed was comfortable. He knew that. His body knew it, and his back knew it too. His back was so grateful for comfort in all forms when it was offered, because as much as he loved the old girl, nights in the back of her had taken its toll and riding in that worn in broken up bucket seat just was not his idea of fun these days. If he coupled that with the added bonus of pulling tricks on the dance floor that he was getting too old to pull without pulling something vital, he should have been snoring into the pillow with a promise of pain reliever waiting for him in the morning. His brain should have been gone, shut down, done until the blaring alarm of his cell phone smacked him back into reluctant awareness, and he should be having either a dreamless night or one he would wake up from with sticky sheets on his person. Hell, he should have been in that awkward sleep of lying still like a vice wrapped around whatever happened to be close and immobile for anything less that peeing, a fire, or coffee.

It should have been him now...but it wasn't.

It was close to two in the morning, and he was quietly darting through the halls not knowing WHY.

"I don't even know why I got out of my bed," he murmured to himself. His brain said differently. He promptly told it to shove it somewhere unpleasant as he found himself down a familiar corridor.

**_'This is not the kitchen...'_**

No, it was not the kitchen, and yes, he was still scratching the back of his head. The kitchen was in the lower part of this labyrinth, which meant that he should have gone down another flight of stairs somewhere. He was too tired to really find the effort to go where he wanted.

"But not tired enough to sleep," he sighed. That was just great. Daphne was going to rip him a new one for sure in the morning.

It was totally not his fault he couldn't sleep. Well, not totally but mostly.

The closest door to him was a good enough place to lean against as he stopped to think. He was relatively tired and aching for sleep but he wasn't at that point where his brain would let him drop off like a loon on a cliff. He was too tired to move, but too aware to observe the door, the wood it was made of, the color of said wood and the intricate exquisite curvature of the engravings etched beneath his fingers carvings. He was too tired to care about it, and too awake to easily forget why he was sitting here outside of a door and mumbling about his stupid brain getting on board the tired train.

It wasn't like he didn't have nights like this. When he did, it usually happened on nights were getting up around noon the next day was acceptable. His coffee maker didn't judge him for it which is why he loved it and cuddled it mentally when it would give him what he wanted without fail. Daphne would not be as forgiving for his getting up at noon. She'd have his head and then feed it to the guests if he arrived without the much needed rest he was supposed to be getting. At least he wouldn't have to think, right? Bonus right?

But life without coffee?

He wanted to crawl back to his room at the dread of no caffeine.

He wasn't going to move though. He had a feeling that this was going to be the one night where sleep would just not come and would not be around until the next afternoon when he was driving somewhere and…yeah. He just wouldn't drive. He would mull over the reasons WHY he was awake though…as he'd done for the last two hours.

Lying awake at midnight never sat right. He had done his best to bore himself into sleep, but he'd only gotten to the 'stupid' part. He had counted the wrinkles in the sheets (none), counted the cracks in the ceiling, (again, none), and even counted how many times he'd sighed in a span of five minutes (thirty eight times). Once boredom was a failure, he decided to try another tactic. Reading.

Velma might have killed him if she knew he fell asleep on books like it was a religion.

Blake households had a vast expenditure of reading material littered throughout the house. Each room was privy to its share of books available on the market from times past and the present shades of grey, in which there were fifty and he was not even trying to ponder with his current thoughts thank you. He bypassed that book on the nightstand and went over to the bookshelf in question, hoping to find some Jane Austen to die by tonight amicably. He could hear Velma ranting about it already but she needn't have feared. It looked like the Blakes didn't take to her like her loyal dead fans.

He had skimmed the rim of the books with his fingers. Brushing up on some diseases that were hard to pronounce sounded like fun, not sleep, and he just was not going to tempt his brain into labeling the inaccuracies of an encyclopedia from a decade ago. Of course neither types of book were there either. He grabbed he fifth book without looking at the binding and flipped it over to see its cover.

That book was still on the floor in his room, laughing up at him with the words "Half Rise" burned into his corneas. He'd dropped it and immediately held his head, wanting to howl at the injustice of life.

How the hell was he supposed to know it was the Kama Sutra?!

The **GAY** Kama Sutra?!

He had pulled another one and ignored the images dancing on that paper. The cover on this book said "Midnight Thirsts" which just didn't bode well considering the blatant irony. He'd shoved that book back (eight agonizing minutes later), never minding the twining lock of two men plastered on the front. He didn't notice how one guy looked as if he were in heaven as the other leant into his neck; how his eyes remained closed, fingers curled into the brunet's hair and looking like he was begging silently to be ravished.

He surely **didn't** flip into the middle of the book, read an eyeful and quickly wished he hadn't. He definitely **didn't** think about how that title played on his mind, or how he was left rubbing the side of his neck and wondering about the legends of vampires. He hadn't stumbled back into the bed, mumbling with red cheeks, and shoving his face into the pillows to scream at himself for his vivid thoughts mocking him openly.

Nope.

"And who the hell are you trying to kid?!" he snapped at himself. All he'd gotten for his "cures" were more things to shove on the far side of his mind with the rest of the spank material (yes, that's what it was), and an ache he was not about to relieve so close to people he **knew**. Whatever happened to a predictable novel of mystery, or a book on something safe and boring like balls or something?

"Oh god...I need sleep," he moaned. He slid down and thunked his head on the door, ready to resort to hitting it harder if it meant passing out. "I do not need her killing me in the morning..."

"Like...I don't need you creeping me out either," a voice mumbled. The door opened then and he looked up and spied the sleepy gaze of his best friend blearily looking down at him. Would it have been considered involuntary manslaughter to die of a dry mouth, or suicide? He didn't know, and sincerely didn't want to be the first victim of that question. He shut his mouth and tried not to stare at the lithe body sinking down to his level.

Well, it would be rude to not ask the obvious, right? "Did I wake you? Shags?"

"Like no...the boogie man in the closet woke me with his moaning," Shaggy sighed. "I think he was getting lucky because he sure was LOUD."

"Loud enough to wake you and not the others?"

"Moron," the hippie muttered affectionately flicking Fred in his forehead. "I wasn't sleeping. I CAN'T," he admitted none too gently. "Believe you me, I want nothing more than to sleep, but like...insomnia is something I'm not used to dealing with."

"...oh."

"Any ideas, Fred?"

Several, but none of which he said aloud. No need to keep them both awake because of **that** and wouldn't that be so very _awkward_? He crawled into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. Shaggy got up and walked back over to the bed, slumped down on the fluffy white, not surprised to feel another body plop down aside his ten seconds later. One eye peered upward to spy Fred glancing down, sleep more than apparent but far from his reach. Fred's mind was going on about something...and Shaggy wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know what.

"Like...you saw something, didn't you," he mused.

Fred bit the inside of his cheek. "A couple of things," he said easily. "But nothing important. Why are you still up?"

"I could ask you the same thing man."

"You could. So?"

"So...what?"

"Why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Why don't you ask me why I'm still up?"

"Like, why **are** you still up?!"

"I don't have the first fucking clue!" Fred crowed, holding the sides of his head and plopping backwards. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, and now his body was sore with an ache he didn't dare tread on. He thought about slapping his face a couple of times and just crawling back out of here, but he felt Shaggy shifting on the bed. Maybe he would slap him silly. Fred thought about asking, not wanting to open his eyes as the light of a dim lamp was clicked on and then there was more shifting.

Whatever he was going to say or do, it dissipated with his tension when thin nimble fingers dug themselves firmly into either side of his temple. The soft "yes" that came out of him was short of obscene, but he could care less as he let his eyes flutter shut after they flew open at the first touch. Magic fingers, yes, indeed, for the addled thing that was his brain being very, very, appreciative of this right now.

"You shouldn't get all worked up like this," Shaggy murmured. He kept up the gentle massage, knowing how much it tended to calm down anyone he used it on. Scooby was the one he discovered this power upon. The dog would be wound up tighter than a knot when they usually had a bad case and it took forever to get him to calm down some nights, especially when he was worked up right alongside. It was a pure accident born from an aborted attempt to playfully dig his fingers in a good scratching spot. Scooby was a puddle and thus…this massage was born and eventually granted upon the few humans who were privy to its magic.

He'd only ever used it on two people, and the other was not here. Blonde as well, but **not** here. "This is not good for you," he chided lightly. "You need to relax more."

Fred yanked at a piece of cloth on Shaggy's night garb. "Hello Mr. Pot."

"Hi Mr. Kettle. We've met before."

"Have we? Hmm, I should instagram your face to myself the next time we meet."

"Or you could just return the favor, Mr. Kettle."

Fred couldn't keep the deep groan coming from the center of his chest when Shaggy's hands moved to his scalp. Scooby had to be the luckiest dog on the planet. "Whatever..."

"...doesn't Daphne do this for you?"

"Pot...Are you insane?"

"No...More like, curious is all?"

"Why would she?" Fred asked, opening his slightly hazed eyes to spy Shaggy staring down at him. He seriously didn't think that— "Oh, no my friend, that was over WAY before it got started," he snorted. "She's a good girl."

"Who likes you?"

"Maybe…but keeping up with her is…a job I can't pay myself for."

"….how short was it?"

"**Short**."

"...like...do you wish it hadn't been so short?"

"**No**." He didn't. He really wished it hadn't been a thought at all but what could one do with the pressures of their teen peers dropping down their backsides long after high school was over?

Logic, as factual as it could be, didn't make sense at times. He was the blonde haired blue eyed jock that could do no wrong in the eyes of the school because of his good looks, charm, and his title as the quarterback. He'd done all that stereotypical shit and more, so of course when high school was over he was expected to marry and have many babies by either the high school head cheerleader or the high school fashionista.

Darlene Honeycomb was not a girl he wanted to lay with when she knew all of his football buddies a little too well. Daphne Blake already had her claws in him anyhow, and she was rich, hot, and not blonde and it was all types of okay back then when he wasn't quite as educated in the real world schematics of life like now. Everything and everyone was telling them that she and he should just give it a shot already and just get the statistics of the average American family under their belts already.

Were they all types of wrong, or what!

College brought out different pursuits. Fred didn't actively pursue Daphne back then, but his handle on what he wanted changed. Women still wanted him and he could love a nice looking body, but a drunken night and a dare brought him to the other side of the fence, and a tapered down awareness of it. The others still didn't know about those days and he more than likely wouldn't tell them, but his initial thoughts were of phases and when he was ready to settle down he would. Because he loved Daphne and the idea of that dream was appealing then; a good looking couple, powerful and decisive, sure to grow and eventually head down the path of marriage. He would be the world famous Detective/Reporter/Photographer, and she would be the High Fashion Journalist traveling to all the corners of the earth. That's how it would have, and perhaps, should have been.

He certainly found out during that short month of them trying to make that oddity work that loving someone and being in love with them were two very different things.

Daphne, as much as he loved her, was on a totally different level of incompatibility he was not aware of when they weren't working together. Her life wasn't about being the wife of the most popular guy around. She was always on the go, always doing something, and never still longer than she had to be to sleep, get something to eat, or watch something she wanted on the television. That part didn't bother Fred that much, but it was the way she tried to dig her hands into him and change him to match her pace…Fred had balked and backpedaled so hard after the third shopping trip that he was sure he'd totaled his mental car.

She realized what was happening after talk of a different hair color came up. She was absolutely horrified about it. Daphne did apologize and she was the one to say they should just stay friends, and Fred let her because who wanted to be the woman that got dumped by his image? Fred didn't want that heat on his back and Daphne didn't want people thinking the wrong thing about either of them. They were not the modern Ken and Barbie. Saying yes to everything and getting nothing in return never ended well.

Fred brought himself back to the mind numbing caress of Shaggy's inquisitive fingers. That had been around the time Shaggy had come back. Of course he thought (and probably the rest of the town because no one knew how to move on) they were still something. Yeah, no, he didn't wish it was that short. "I wish it hadn't have happened," he admitted. "She needs someone who will break her habits without forcing her to."

"...Like, you never got past first base, did you."

Fred twisted his face and pretended to look offended. "Like, Dude, that's our sister. Um, ew?"

Shaggy laughed at him, shifting himself so that Fred's head was in his lap. His shoulders dropped with the floor of gratifying relief that came his way. The why didn't matter, but it was nice not thinking that Jarrod and Darrel had been utterly wrong about it. He couldn't quite place his fingers on why, but he was still glad. Fred's soft smile of drowsiness was turning into one of total relaxation. His knotted brow had relaxed, and his dimples had subsided in lieu of yawning and moaning his appreciation for the scalp massage. If he wasn't careful, the man would fall asleep in his lap.

Shaggy didn't quite care.

"So like, what's the deal with Velma?" he asked. Fred's brow canted at his off the wall question. "Is she, or isn't she?"

"Huh? OH! Oh no. NO!" Fred shook his head laughing and waved his hands to further emphasize his loud protest. Shaggy never could figure Velma out completely and he was too much of a nice person to ask. Fred and Velma though, they had history from their Shaggy-less days that made it easy to answer that question and mean it. "No way man. She's picky is all, and she refused to change her style for obvious reasons."

"I supposed that's going to change now," Shaggy mused. "I can't believe you dared her to wear that…or that she had it!"

"She got a nice reaction. Daphne's says she wants to take Velma shopping. I mean, she let her hair grow out some, so why not the rest?"

"Like, the rest is grown out! She just covers it up with those sweaters."

"Shoot me if I ever go back to those long sleeved things," Fred laughed. "I look like such a Jock."

"Do the same for me if I go back to those brown things...and that shirt!" Shaggy chuckled. "Oh man...it's like I had, twenty of the same shirt!"

"You did...because it was your favorite color."

"It still is...Scooby sniffed out that shirt." He stalled his fingers from their massage and reached out to gently trace the line that was Fred's defined nose. His own had a small hump to it, a distinguishing feature bestowed upon him via his father's genes. Fred's was the definitive of perfect, given the fact that he'd broken it once or twice. His fingers stopped at the end of his nose, flicking the tip of it lightly. Fred laughed and snatched his hand, effectively pulling him down.

"Scooby sniffed out that shirt?"

"Like, yeah man. It was before...the first day of high school."

"You don't say?"

"I needed a shirt...and Scooby wandered into my closet and was like, sniffing around the stuff my mom bought but I never wore. He pulled out that shirt, and I figured I'd go with the hippie tree loving look. I wasn't, like, trying to impress anyone."

Fred remembered it. He remembered punching Greg Fresco in the back for talking smack about it but that was something for Fred to enjoy privately."...you did look good in it," Fred mused, "when you were a cute kid."

"Cute?!"

"Of course! You were **adorable** and girls fed you for that reason alone. Scooby was a bonus!"

"So like, if that's the case, why couldn't I score a date to save my life?!"

Fred shrugged. Teens were ugly fickle things in social cliques and he might have probably kept the preying jerks off of Shaggy's backside. Fred of course wasn't going to say that aloud. He grinned though. Shaggy slumped down and thumped his hand on Fred's silent laughing chest. Shaggy knew, but he said the obvious anyhow. "You totally suck."

Fred grabbed his other hand and pulled, dragging Shaggy out of his position and down to lie on him; across him really. Shaggy's head found a resting spot on Fred's shoulder once he slid back into a more comfortable position, laughing with the blonde about their sleep riddled antics. Normally one of them would have shoved the other away claiming the need for space and starting the mandatory pillow fight, but they didn't move away from the comfort that snared them.

This was better than sleeping in the old girl when times prompted it, comfort wise physically anyhow. Nights when they had no shelter to sleep in resulted in old blankets being brought out and lain down for the girls to sleep upon. Scooby would be with them in the back, their heated pillow and silent guardian from the things that could rock the mystery machine. Fred and Shaggy took turns driving if they had to keep going through the night, one sleeping in the passenger seat and the other fighting off sleep silent invited.

On those nights where driving just wasn't an option, Fred and Shaggy would keep to a corner of their own. They'd stay up a little later, kind of like now, talking about nothing and everything until they would doze off. When they woke, if they weren't sleeping awkwardly in their own spaces, they were huddled up together. Fred would always wake first, and seeing Shaggy's head pressed against his own just pulled him back under. He would tug the then teen closer to him, knowing that his clinging lanky frame needed an anchor to keep the nightmares at bay, and just go back to sleep until Shaggy's stomach would rouse them.

Doing what they did made Shaggy more of a nervous wreck than ever. Sleep was the least Fred could give him. It was bad when people were deliberately masquerading as monsters, but recently, in their adult years, those "masks" had become devastatingly real. Fred often found himself questioning the integrity of myths and folklore. It wasn't as accurate as seeing it up close. Either way, when they stumbled across one of those, Shaggy was up for nights on end. He was up, too, easing him into some hours of sleep until he couldn't quite take it himself. It was easier that way...and more comforting the longer he thought about it.

He wondered why it couldn't have been one of those nights. Shaggy would be drooling on him rather than lying awake wondering what was plaguing Fred's brain and Fred would be free to suck down this feeling of euphoria while mentally berating the woman that broke his friend in half with these seemingly gentle touches. Of course that only fueled the stimulants of his mind and he knew sleep just would not visit tonight.

He resisted sucking his teeth and stared down at Shaggy idly tapping the protruding end of his collarbone. He was thinking, but not so deeply that he didn't blush appropriately when Fred linked their hands together.

Shaggy mentally groaned. Oh god, they were talking about their feelings now. "...Fred…can we just—"

"No." Fred hushed him with a look, his thought process shot to hell and he just could not deal with this a moment longer in silence. "...you know, after that whole Googie thing, I thought for sure you'd leave," he said quietly. Shaggy bit his lip, unsure of where Fred was going with this. Fred gently placed their hands over his heart, sighing as his nose found the head of umber he'd been unconsciously thinking of all night. "I didn't think you'd ever come back **home**."

"I wasn't going to," Shaggy admitted. It was a twist in a knife they'd kept buried between them, but one Fred wanted to rip out of that wound now of all times. Shaggy sighed and gave in. There was no getting away from it now. "She was…my chance to…be normal. She was special…the only girl who noticed me…I thought for sure…"

"I thought so, too." And it hurt more then. It hurt him because Shaggy chose her and Fred couldn't fault him the reasons why. But… "She broke your heart...and broke mine, too."

"You…you weren't the one with her…"

"No I wasn't. But she **stole** you from us…stole you from me. My best friend was gone and she locked him up for herself."

Shaggy tried not to listen for the implications under those loaded words, but he was failing and falling somewhere dangerous. "...I did miss you Fred. I did. I just...didn't know how to say no...you know?"

"She hung up on me."

"I didn't know at the time..."

Fred nodded, and hated himself for what he said next. "...but she had the right idea."

Shaggy looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Fred shook his head silently, inhaling the scent of faded vanilla and Shampoo that smelt of peaches and cream. Shaggy must have gotten the girly bathroom, but it smelt great on that soft skin. "You **needed** a break from us...from what we **do**. Your nerves were shot to hell, and you know it," he said before Shaggy could protest. "Besides...you needed a break from **me**."

That may have been true then, but it wasn't now. Wouldn't Fred like to know just what the hell he'd been up to in his absence? Shaggy decided to tell him later, when this comfort was offered again. "...being away from you made it harder to sleep," Shaggy admitted softly. "She was there...but she didn't know how to calm me down. Even Scooby couldn't calm me down like you could. I didn't trust her like you..."

**_'Didn't love her...like you...'_**

"...you trust me now?"

"Of course! Why?"

**_'Because I'm done skirting around this.'_**

He didn't quite need to say it. He nudged Shaggy's head upward with a soft breath, moving in to steal those lips before he could say anything. It was nothing more than a two second kiss; short, sweet, and chaste in all intentions, but speaking volumes in its very existence. Fred knew his cheeks were on fire...and he was pretty sure those lurid thoughts were about to hit him harder than they had about twenty minutes ago. Shaggy gaped at him, fixing his jaw in a tight grip that might have had Fred leaping out of the bed. Thankfully Shaggy's eyes weren't good at lying, and neither was he.

"...man, you have like, the WORST timing," Shaggy muttered.

"Hey! I'm not doing it at **_your_** wedding! Although that would have been interesting."

"No way! Like, just so we're clear...that wasn't a friend kiss, was it?"

"Hmm? No, why?"

Shaggy effectively shut him up with another, silencing him into complete stupidity with that thing he was doing with his tongue. How the heck did he know how to do that?! It didn't much matter after a moment, stealing his breath away with a light flick of his tongue against the soft palate trembling in excitement. He gave him a second to breathe, stealing his senses away with open wet kisses, mapping the inner caverns of that warmth thoroughly and thoughtfully. He tasted of mint and chocolate, and something more he couldn't quite finger, but found just as addicting as nibbling his lower lip. He got the nicest reaction out of Shaggy, and Fred was too glad he wasn't wearing that infernal gown tonight.

He'd been kissed before, but never so openly. The passion of lips dancing upon another's was an art fueled with intentions tainted by conquest and other motives. This kiss, this gentle slide of tongues against one another, curling and tasting and remembering the sensitive spots…this kiss was one of a starving man drinking his fill of a his favorite carnal desire and letting it consume him in a fire that set his partner aflame as well. Fred gave as much as he was given, thanking his stars no one in high school he knew could kiss like this, because he would find them, kill them for teaching Shaggy this, and then thank them with flowers on their grave. Hell, Red Herring would have died at the sight of this and that would have been a bonus.

Fred pulled back and laughed abruptly. He could almost swear that the red headed idiot was screaming at him from afar. Shaggy pulled away and bopped him in his shoulder, tuned well enough to Fred to know who he was thinking about. "Stop thinking about that idiot!"

"I c-can't help it...it's just too funny!"

"Huh. Well this will be hilarious...I'm going to sleep!"

"What?! NO!"

"Give me one good reason not to."

He could give him several...and Fred decided that enough was enough. Without warning or knowing how it happened, Shaggy was underneath him, gasping for air he couldn't quite catch. Fred's lips were enjoying themselves on the small groove between his chin and neck, and his hands were quickly skirting up the length of his exposed thigh...

"You want to know what I saw earlier?" he breathed against his cheek. Shaggy blinked and almost swore he was in bed with a closeted incubus. That smoldering look left his back in a puddle, and his will was tossed out to the floor much like his t-shirt in the next moment. He had a feeling that sleep was the last thing on Fred's mind.

**_'Oh my GOD...'_**

* * *

No worries...it gets better. *smirk*


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:**

I totally revised the lemon you're about to read. I just couldn't leave it like before. The end though? Yeah, I got a little lazy there but I still like it the way it is.

* * *

**Part 4:** Waiting for you

* * *

**2:42 a.m.:**

"The what?!"

"The male version of the Kama Sutra..."

"Like...are you serious?!"

"If you hadn't worn me out, I'd get up and show you," he murmured. All he got was a light stroke of his scalp and a scoff for even suggesting it. "I'm telling you...it was like **porn** central."

"I'm starting to wonder if the Blake's are closeted perverts...that would explain the upright front..."

"...did I knock the 'like'...out of you?"

"Like, no," he chuckled. "I'm too tired to notice...but I'm noticing something else."

He should have been. By the law of nature and general habits of man, they should have been sleeping this off. This tired sensation of bone deep satisfaction that had them grinning stupidly into the darkness. Fred rolled up onto his elbows, grimacing at the discomfort of sticky boxers clinging to places he had further plans for. Not really thinking about it, he crawled out of them, shucked them to the far corner of the room where they landed in a heap next to a pair of loose gym shorts. Those had gotten chucked about fifteen minutes ago, and for that much he now had a very nude man by the name of Shaggy Rodgers pinned beneath him.

That shaggy hair of his lie in a brunette mess scrawled against the pillow he lie upon. His own flaxen locks lie in disarray, covering his eyes a bit but not enough for him to miss the affectionate gaze Shaggy was giving to his pondering one. Never would he have thought before tonight that a moment like this was fathomable let alone achievable. He didn't dare think about what would have happened had he actually managed to shut his eyes and sleep like he was intended. It made this space in his chest hurt, a space he'd kept closed and close to his heart for longer than he would have dared admitted to.

Those types of admissions weren't here with them tonight. Fingers with a mind all their own reached to gently caress those still swollen lips, wondering at the silken feel of such things. Kissing Shaggy was much different than kissing any girl he'd been with. Girls wanted to cling to him; they dug their nails in to his skin to take purchase upon the muscle he built through his escapades and drive themselves into his lap to broadcast their intent. He understood the message better than any girl could have known, and understood his answer better as well. Their clinginess was for superficial reasons. They could care less about him or what he stood for, as long as they bedded him.

Shaggy didn't do those things. Not his best friend. He had wrapped his long arms around his shoulders, pulling Fred deeper and further into this strange coupling of he and Shaggy, pressed against one another desperately trying to fight off the temptation to give in too soon. The silent thoughts that had been hidden under the friendship they kept above all else within their lives had come screaming out loud so far and fast that giving in was inevitable and Fred dove in head first to drown blissfully. Shaggy had been too tempting, so sensitive...so** vocal**, that Fred only wanted to drive him off of that cliff a little further and faster than he'd fallen moments ago. He couldn't keep it together long enough to remove his boxers then, but the bright lights behind his eyes and exhausted laughs kept him from feeling too bad about it.

**_'...I want all of him...'_**

"...how far?" he asked quietly. Shaggy opened his eyes a little more, gasping at the feel of his hips spreading themselves further. Fred's new restraint was fading quickly, and he pressed himself closer; harder the longer Shaggy waited to answer him. "Please...how far...?"

Shaggy's head swam. He was still wrapped up in the arms of a man—a very fine specimen—that could have anyone he desired. For Fred to be pressed this close to him, to be pleading for him to answer a question that maybe shouldn't have existed in normalcy and to be so wanton for someone like him…it made touching that heated face a little more surreal as Fred shoved his face into that touch. Fred's passions were like fire…hot and scalding under the right duress, unable to be tamed if he was engulfed in it and directing it like it was the wind. Sometimes the flames died quickly for the new things he shoved himself upon, but this thing…this dance that was them right here and now…it wasn't new at all.

They'd been dancing for quite some time. A strange dance of tug and pull and gracelessness as well as eloquence. They stumbled, they fell, they got up and danced like they hadn't tripped…but this was the turn that change the essence of them as people apart and together. Shaggy had fallen….he'd fallen so hard. Fred hadn't left him to dance somewhere else. He'd held out his hand and dragged him back up into his arms and snared him the moment he wasn't looking, and the smug bastard was proud of it. Fred pressed a kiss into Shaggy's trembling hands, stilling the bit of disbelief that Fred had wanted this longer than Shaggy had.

Denying this...denying him...denying himself; it wasn't in the plan. It wasn't in the nerves that shot through his spine and dared him to look Fred in the eye.

It wasn't new...but this...was a new start.

Fred asked again, muffled against that hand. "How far?"

Shaggy felt his hand stop trembling as he found his sure answer. "As far as you'll take me."

Fred all but groaned towards the ceiling. Did he know what he was saying? What he was implying? He looked down at him, questioning his sanity and his own when those slender arms wrapped themselves around his broad shoulders. Fred was sucked back down into that warm abyss of acceptance that was and would always hold him captive. He could never leave these arms now…he was ruined for anyone else and that was fine.

Broad fingers callused with years of escaping lingered a breath away from the overly sensitive skin beneath it. Shaggy's visible shiver had his mouth playing with the underside of his chin again, laving and nipping at the sensitive area just below his ear. Fred's fingers fell and gently squeezed the plump dusky nipple rising in accordance. The hard flesh pebbled and puckered, begging for his lips to pay it the same mind Shaggy's neck was getting. It was going to have to wait. Fred grinned against the goose-bumps his breath had caused, teeth lightly but firmly worrying the skin that tasted like sunshine. Soft licks were all he would offer in apology, nuzzling the mark he'd made as his hand moved a little lower.

Those hips; those slender tantalizing hips that had been on display earlier that night twitched when his fingers pressed into them. Years of running themselves stupid and recovering from that stupidity had left Shaggy with a body he wasn't aware of. He was well toned, lean, and slender wrapped up in a natural tan anyone would have been envious of. Muscle could be seen under that lithe form stretched out in its cat like grace beneath him, flexing and contracting with every fleeting trace of his curious fingers. Shaggy's body was one to be adored and marveled under the layers of baggy clothing the man wore; a body that Fred would gladly smother with more clothes of the same likeness and himself if to keep that hidden treasure for his eyes alone.

The rush of rising admissions and fleeting dreams come to the pinnacle of realization in fruition had cause the first moments to be rushed and hurried with ravishing hunger that could rob the strongest man of his resolve. Fred had been unable to immerse himself in the soft gasps dancing to drum his ears in time with his heart, the heat too strong and his passion so long in coming. He could do it now; head clear enough to move with the next gasp rising from that pale throat and mingle with the moan tumbling from his own lips when he shifted his weight to press downwards and up. Heated flesh met and clung, the cool air of the room quickly succumbing to the silent overpowering drive of their collective passion mingling to become a veil that could very well suffocate them in this thing called bliss.

Fred's fingers moved lower and skirted over the firm inner thighs moving further apart to accommodate and invite him to do as he wished. How skin could be this smooth...how anyone could be this warm...

**_'Mine...all mine...'_**

Shaggy's fingers fell into the blonde tresses tickling his chest; a light sigh leaving him in a short stuttered burst when warm moist lips kissed the center of his chest. The heart that had been thundering skipped and quivered in time with his body as Fred took his fill. He was too far gone to be embarrassed by the little hitching noises coming from himself, but there was a comfort in the air that made it more than okay for him to tremble like a leaf each time Fred discovered another sensitive point on him.

Any man worth their salt kept with the illusion that they were more than experienced in the bedroom, but it was never like this for Shaggy. He'd only been with one before this, one who he knew like the back of his hand and it hurt all the more to remember her face and what she'd done. Googie was the first to touch him, but she didn't map her way around his body like the trained sailor of uncharted waters. She treaded the waters and skimmed the surface, but she never dove into the depths Fred went, savoring each discovery until his lips hovered above the rising treasure leaning into the soft kiss left on the underside. Shaggy's skin prickled in anticipation, and a solid vibrant heat curled around his spine as Fred licked deliberately upward with a lingering parting suck upon the tip of his straining cock.

"Sweet..."

Those were the only soft words he would utter in the coming moments, the heat of his breath teasing and devilish as the man that moved to place his lips on a higher point of Shaggy's thin hips. The hippie didn't know whether to kill or kiss Fred, his protests apparent but quelled into open gasps of question as Fred licked and laved at the tender skin where his hip and crotch were connected. He winced as Fred bit a particularly sensitive place in the center of his right thigh, the blood rushing to the spot where it was demanded to rise and mar the pale skin as a token of love and acceptance of the one who put it there. The fire burning in the pale blue irises was akin to a starving incubus savoring its first bites and unwilling to part with its dinner even in death. Shaggy couldn't tear his eyes from Fred's, rapt in the travel of that pink muscle leaving a wet trail back to the designated center of its journey and tease the heavy sac before it left a breathy heated path upward alongside an open palm.

"Fred…"

The words died on Shaggy's tongue with another maddeningly slow rub. Shaggy was pressed to let his head fly back and close his eyes but those eyes would not release his own. The clear pool of fluid on his belly was licked away, sucked to savor, and one part of a course that was sure to leave Shaggy breathless. Blonde tufts of hair softer than given credit for and much longer than thought to be tickled the goose pricked skin as Fred's head moved just enough to find its target and give Shaggy a hungry growl and devoured that heat in one swallow.

The curse that wanted to come wouldn't. Shaggy was too busy gulping in air, arching upward with the second swallow and moving with the urging hands that pulled at his hips, tugged and shoved his legs over the broad shoulders supported by arms that could do what they pleased tonight. Fred refused to let go, the slight musk of his lover addicting and mind numbing with the added ecstasy of those thin fingers grabbing hold of his hair and pulling as Shaggy fought not to do what Fred was willing to die from. Fred greedily and noisily worshiped his meal, letting his passion mount until it was nearly too much for the shocked but willing hippie struggling to keep the whine within him at bay.

Several porn worthy moments later, Shaggy tugged at his hair in a plea. "F-Fred….Let—Fred, oh my god!"

Fred let him go with a mind melting slurp, flicking the swollen glands in parting as he squeezed the base of Shaggy's cock. He only needed short breath. Shaggy groaned deeply, breathing heavily to calm himself down. Another second and he would have popped and he wasn't quite ready to let it end this way. He was so close it wasn't funny, despite that husky laughter rumbling against his skin. Fred had a right to be smug. That mouth of his could do a lot of damage to the one it targeted.

So focused on trying not to blow himself into a blackout, Shaggy never noticed the slick digit slipping past his defenses until it was too late and had become two. He squirmed at the discomfort, memories of tentative experiments leading to his belief that perhaps doctors needed to be trained for that kind of thing and girls who had only their friends for guidance should get new friends. He knew this was a part of the whole package, but he hadn't thought about this piece of it and the uncomfortable fullness that was tainted with memories of her and her invasive touch without experience. It managed to bring him back from the brink, and he was glad of it until Fred took what Shaggy knew of this and tore it into pieces with his fingers searching, finding, and pressing that little piece of him that was meant to be the doctor's plaything.

His back bowed and he shoved himself deeper onto those fingers with a wet garbled "fuck!" surging forth before he could stop it.

Fred sucked the side of his drooling mouth before he buried his face against Shaggy to lap and lave at the tightening furred sac resting on the edge of his working knuckles. He kept from the deeper carnal desires, reaching for the bottle he'd managed to snag out of the nightstand in the midst of his devouring. He knew Daphne well enough to know that her folks were characters on their own, and the fact that he had found something like the Gay Kama Sutra in his bedroom was room to believe that they would, and did much to his delight and relief, supply their guests with unopened bottles of lube. He was sure that dear old Uncle Liam was not expecting this coupling, but he had a feeling that a certain wedded bound couple had a hand in this.

He shoved thoughts of faces that had nothing to do with now out of his head. It didn't matter where he learned it from or how. He would thank those chuckling idiots tomorrow and further shove his unstable months without Shaggy with his belief of never having him into the past where it would be dead and buried. He let himself taste the edge of that sweetness and vowed never to let it leave him. His fingers were squeezed in response and Fred was sorely tempted to let the ravenous beast that was his lust, come out to play tonight.

"Like...Fred...if you don't do something soon—"

"Impatient aren't we?"

"Fr-Freddie~~~! AAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Temptation proved to be a little too much. He kept a small smile to himself, uncurling his fingers from that bundle of nerves and watching as Shaggy's cock erupted without warning. The fountain of spurting white was wide on the first erupt, pearls of it landing on overheated skin. Fred let the first convulsion pass and the second tumble. On the third, he was moving fast than the blinding night to sink himself deep into that quivering milking heat that took hold of him and sucked him deeper without his askance.

The strange combination of pleasure mingled with the pain of being stretched further kept Shaggy on the edge of blacking out. He closed his eyes, tears pricking the ends of them as he fought to adjust to the over sensing combination. He felt Fred shift and he braced himself, but the surprising feel of his lips on his eyes and the murmured apologies against his lips relaxed him enough to realize that he hadn't softened in the least.

Fred's head fell against his own with a muttered string of heartfelt curses. "Never…" he swallowed, trying to think over his heart in his ears and he shuddered as he bottomed out and fought to sit in that heat, "I…nothing ever…felt this good…fuck…**_Shaggy_**…"

He was wrecked, and gone, and just a mess of his usual enthralling self and Shaggy could only press his lips to the warm skin of Fred's head. He was just as gone, harder than ever and still rearing to go despite having come a moment ago. He would have gladly begged Fred to move had he not been immersed in the feel of them connected in the most intimate of ways and breathing in time with one another. This carnal need within him was new and frightening, but something that Fred understood well enough for the both of them that Shaggy surrendered his body to Fred's and welcomed him deeper.

The jock of their little quintet was outgoing and ambitious, but he knew how to take care of Shaggy better than anyone else even before now. Everything scared Shaggy, and he let it…because it was easier to run and avoid than face the monsters and the what-ifs of life…but Fred never let him run long. Fred always shoved him into the deep end, usually flailing for purchase on something, but Fred was never too far behind looking to soothe the old wounds with the new and always keeping him afloat from what fears may come. So much would change, so much would be different…but Fred…Fred had buried himself under this new skin that was them as one and would be damned to relinquish it now.

Shaggy rolled his hips a little, the air hazy with want. Fred mouthed his neck, his control nearly gone. "Shaggy...this isn't going to last long," he breathed. "I can't..."

"Then don't..."

"**_Shags_**…."

Now wasn't the time for talking. The wet silken heat Fred was buried in told him such in subtle ripples that it was near impossible not to find some way to live in it. He growled, pulling back slowly, ripping a garbled moan from Shaggy which turned into a grunting moan accompanied with fingers pressed into his back and clawing soundly down his flexing shoulders as he gave into that incessant urge to find and bury himself home.

That massive thing rubbed Shaggy in all the right spots, and he caught himself moaning louder when Fred twisted his hips just so with a drop of his hips that had him seeing stars outside of the ones shimmering outside. Lips meshed together, tongues sliding and dueling for dominance which would come to neither man lost in the other, Shaggy let himself be swept away in this torrent that was much more than the moments where he thought love could be found in the arms of another blonde.

As if he could sense her, Fred shoved harder. She was not welcome in this bed. Googie had forsaken her claim, her right to occupy Shaggy's thoughts. He'd been gone so long…Fred could barely stand thinking about the way Shaggy vanished from his side without a trace back then and slid his arms under the slender man to keep him close as if he would be gone if he stopped. There was no way to know if he was fine or not; if Shaggy was happy, if he missed them….missed Fred as much as Fred could call screaming for someone in his sleep for nights on end. There was no way to know if she made him laugh when the bad would come knocking, if she kept him SAFE…kept him alive inside and not by physical means…and she hadn't because Shaggy had come back to him with tears under the bright smile as if nothing happened.

Nothing hurt more than to know that he'd allowed Shaggy to go. Nothing hurt more than knowing that he should have been doing this then…branding him, marking him up for all to know that this person…this remarkable loving man shaking in his arms…was worth that agonizing pain of realization hitting Fred in the center of his soul to leave him wheezing. No, she was not allowed here…he would erase her and her influence…she would **_never_** have hold of this soul **again**.

He groaned, snapping his hips impossibly harder and driving the younger man deeper into the mattress. His fingers dug themselves into his waist, surely bruising but unable to let up the pressure; the intent to hold and stay on, to keep him from leaving and becoming nothing more than a fleeting dream. His cock slid easily in and out of him, accepted with the marking kisses, the possession in his eyes, and the overflow of words screaming something along the lines of "MINE!" when he couldn't take it anymore. Shaggy took it all and more, wrapping himself around Fred and his heart without question. He sat back and roared; his cock coating the insides of the warm vice of his lover. It was enough to brand Shaggy, and enough for the shaft pressed between their heaving bellies to erupt for a third time and bind them with that slick warmth.

Fred felt the world spin, tumble, and leave his senses up in the air as he collapsed into the waiting arms curling around his head to keep him close. The tension fizzled and soon there was nothing more than the unsteady aftershocks before the abrupt sleepy calm that came with this type of exertion. They'd been looking for sleep beforehand, but finding it had taken a couple of confessions that made it much easier to drop off without a care right now. They had this, they had tomorrow…they had a future they could call their own because they chose to take hold of it.

Fred lifted his head enough to place his lips on the side of Shaggy's neck to mouth the slowing pulse of his lover as it settled down. "Love you so…fucking…much," he slurred meaningfully. "Shags…don't ever…"

Shaggy tightened his arms. Fred, if he was lucky, would swear for many years to come that he felt that heart stutter before it came back to life beating like a flustered humming bird in love.

"Love you too, Freddie...and…I won't. I **_promise_**."

Sleep came and claimed them, and they fell asleep within one another's arms unaware of the night inching by with the sounds of the house echoing in the silence tainted by the snickering of a knowing Great Dane.

* * *

**9:49 a.m.:**

It was going on ten. Daphne noted this for the fourth time in two minutes, anxiously tapping her heeled foot and looking between the clock and her watch. They both said the same thing but it didn't ease her any. The wedding was in an hour. In an hour her cousin would be wedding the man of his dreams, a first for their family considering the history of good old U.S.A.. It was one of the first commitment ceremonies that would be performed in their family household, and the very first time they adopted a male partner into the family as a bride. Amazing wasn't the word that came to mind when she thought about it. Her heart fluttered in excitement and she had to calm herself down. The very idea of weddings always had her giggling and mentally planning her own...if she could ever manage to snag her man.

Jarrod had nudged her in the ribs last night, winking respectively as she let loose. "You'll get him sooner than you think," he had laughed. "Lad won't know what hit him, ey?"

No he wouldn't. Not if the little number she currently wore had anything to do with it. Her lean elegant body was wrapped in a simple silk dress of pearl tones, reaching down to the length of her knees and further along the A-line cut of the hem. The center of it was wrapped kindly in a deep red sash, accenting the color and drawing attention to her slender frame. The dress was sleeveless and topless, the middle cinched in and structured to lift and accentuate her cleavage. **_'That was done very well, thank you,' _**she thought as she fingered the pearl necklace upon her neck. It went nicely with the bracelet she'd bought on impulse a week ago, and looked better with her hair pinned up in a fashionable Cinderella like hair style. The red pumps were, of course, the make or break of her look. She gave herself the once over one more time and smiled in satisfaction.

"Daphne, have you seen the boys?"

She turned her head toward the voice inquiring what she wanted to know. She half expected to meet the glasses and that same flat brown hair falling into her charming eyes. The unexpected part of her gasped quietly and killed the other half, hands flying to her mouth in delight and shock at the girl standing before her nervously.

When she'd said that she had their outfits picked out for them, she meant she'd narrowed it down to seven. Velma had been left to pick and choose the one she liked best, with a little help from her of course. Velma wasn't easy to shop for, or easy to dress...but damn it if that girl didn't hide that body effectively! They'd seen a bit of it last night on a dare, and now...

"Daphne?"

"Velma, you're gorgeous!" Daphne said.

Now Velma was making her debut. She'd placed on a modern fit dress that slenderized her form and elongated her more than thought to be. The color was a sheer fun orange that darkened into a luscious red. It reminded her of Velma's old get up, only this was much more flattering and pleasing as far as her body went. The girl hid it well enough. The dress was sleeveless, opting to hold itself up with a choker like collar. It hugged her until the very edge of her hips, were it flared out and stopped in the middle of her thigh. She only had a pair of white shoes to offset the color scheme; classic Mary Jane's with a little height and a shine all their own. She wore a simple set of gold earrings and a beaded necklace that fell to the center of her chest. It didn't deter from her face, which shone brightly without the added distraction of those thick frames.

"I suppose getting those designer frames wasn't such a bad idea," Daphne smirked. "Cute!"

The awaited blush came and furthered the light rose blush that had been applied to her slender cheeks. She ducked her head down, but smiled despite her obvious embarrassment. "Thanks...but, have you seen Shaggy or Fred?"

No, Daphne hadn't and that bothered her. She shook her and said, "This isn't like them...Fred should have been up at least. He would have woken up Shaggy..."

"Darrel said Fred wasn't in his room this morning."

"He couldn't have gotten lost..."

"No, for once this place isn't so big you need a map to navigate."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope. Maybe Shaggy's seen him?"

"Or Scooby...hey, where's Scooby anyhow?"

Scooby walked up behind them, having been groomed and preened to the tastes of Daphne when she was in one of her moods. He smelt like a GQ model or that time he'd rolled in something on Shaggy's floor that had spilled everywhere. The Great Dane didn't mind it as much as they thought, though he did get a snack in apology for being woken up much too early for two hours of preparation. It paid off though, in a way that had the lady dogs swooning and the male dogs growling at his presence. A look backward had them shutting up. At the age of eight, he was too old and too seasoned to give a crap about those males and now was not the time to show that rare intolerant side of himself.

So he secretly promised a good mauling to the Jack Russell coming after his tail once he was too close. The little thing took a hint and hung back, shamed into peeing himself and having the girls snickering while one of the maids groaned in disgust.

He nosed Daphne's thigh and brought her wondering mind on him. She scratched his ears in greeting. "Well, Scooby's ready. Hey Scoob, have you seen Shaggy or Fred?"

"RO." He hadn't, but that didn't mean he didn't know where they were. The girls blinked and looked to each other for answers they didn't quite have. Scooby was glad humans didn't have dog noses. It was entertaining watching them trying to figure out what he'd sniffed out a long time ago.

Velma tapped her chin in thought. "Maybe...we should see if Shaggy's in his room. If he is, he's probably still sleeping."

"And risk the unsightly form that is Shaggy before breakfast?"

That set off alarm bells. "He did miss breakfast, didn't he?"

Now that wasn't like Shaggy in the least. They shared another look and took off before they could think about it even further. Scooby followed, resisting the laughter wanting to bubble up. He just could not get enough of these humans and their wild assumptions. What Shaggy did in his own time was Shaggy's business, and soon to be every else's at this rate.

He wished he had popcorn.

Carpeted thundering footsteps soon cluttered the silence of the house, trailing up the stairs past the maids tending to their morning routine. Daphne was the first to reach the top of the second level, Velma seconds behind and darting down the hallway Daphne sprinted for. Times like these she was glad she hadn't opted for the tighter dress or those stilettos. How anyone could run in those pin-heels was beyond her. It took less than a minute for the girls to find themselves in front of Shaggy's closed door, and even less time for Daphne to pull a pin from her hair. Like the lock-picker she was, she tested the door and made short work of the lock once she'd confirmed it was locked. Velma silently pondered where she learned how to do all that, or who she learned it from.

"It's a hobby."

"No, hobbies are collecting stamps or postcards. YOU," she said poking her in her bare backside, "Are a thief in the making!"

She couldn't say much to that when the lock clicked and the door knob turned in her hand. She smiled triumphantly. Thief? No. Excellent lock picker? Yes!

Willing to wait for movement before she opened the door? That would be a big NO.

She swung open the door with the intent to shout that lazy man awake, have him leap out the bed and eventually tumble to the ground. From there, it was supposed to be a series of questions, running, and hopefully finding Fred somewhere obscure. It was their thing, sure, true, and not to be interrupted.

Well, that died with the loud RISE AND SHINE in her throat. A choked noise came out, and Velma's shriek of "Jinkies!" didn't ring loud enough to stir **them** from **their** exhaustion. It wasn't just Shaggy in that bed. That was enough to have them stumble in the first place. Had it been a girl they would have stumbled out of the room gasping hysterically and trying to figure out when that happened and when Shaggy would even think about it after the Googie incident. No, it was a guy, a distinct male figure with a notable tattoo on his arm Velma would know even if she were BLIND and THAT is why they were standing there trying to remember how to **breathe**.

From behind, Scooby nosed his way in and snickered. The nose knows for a reason.

Soft snoring came from the depths of those disheveled sheets with the sound rise and fall of the thin chest beneath it. Shaggy's head was lolled to the side, buried comfortably in the white pillows that hid half of his face. They could see the result of bed head sticking up on the visible side, and the presence of a bruise just beneath the juncture of his ear. That would have raised several eyebrows if the cause of it wasn't right next to it.

Their missing party member was nuzzled in the nape of Shaggy's neck, arms twined around his lean torso possessively. His blonde hair lie in a disheveled mess mingled with the brown locks he gently blew from his lips with every snore. Eyes closed to the world, they could see that he wasn't exactly wearing a shirt either, nor any pants the further they stepped in. That sheet wasn't even on him and the girls averted their eyes because that was just too much to handle. Fred moved a bit, but no more than to allow himself a bit more comfort as he dropped off again. A small smile of utter satisfaction graced his face. Legs twined with the shapely ones belonging to his human pillow, he dreamt on highly unaware of shock snapping the minds of their unheard audience.

Another body crept into their silence and whistled low in appreciation. The girls spun and spied Jarrod standing in the doorway, grinning to the point of ear splitting. "I see someone got that clue!" he crowed softly. "Got to the honeymoon before me!"

Daphne's cheeks were as crimson as the sash on her dress. "Oh my...Did you—"

"Oh, come on," Jarrod teased, "Like you didn't know! That orange ascot thingy he used to wear was a dead giveaway."

"I don't think he's that way in general," Velma mused under her own bright cheeks. "I think he's that way for Shaggy...and just Shaggy."

"Ro DUH," Scooby sniffed. He nosed his way past them again and gently shoved them in the direction of the door. "Ret's ro!"

"Scooby's got the right idea lass," Jarrod said. "Let's go. We can grill 'em later."

Velma quickly took her leave. She'd had enough surprises for one morning. Daphne was a little slower to leave. She turned a bit to see Shaggy turn over, falling into the protective embrace of Freddy still in the throes of sleep. Somehow it looked familiar...and at the same time, she couldn't quite keep the twinge from her heart. Jarrod quickly took her by the hand and yanked her out of there. Scooby followed, closing the door gently behind him.

Fred chuckled tiredly and kissed the bare shoulder closest to him. "Good thing they didn't come in here ten minutes ago."

Shaggy agreed; licking the side of his mouth and falling as Fred devoured him all over again. At this rate they were going to miss the festivities and neither man cared too much about it.

* * *

**12:15 p.m.:**

"WHAT?!"

"What do you mean you have laryngitis?!" she cried. "How the hell did that happen?!"

"Well, he is a renowned wedding singer," Uncle Liam offered. The older gentleman shrugged and tapped his brow. He'd managed to perform several different weddings in the span of four days, and his voice finally gave out on him. It wasn't like he'd planned it, but getting older tended to do things like that. Daphne almost raked her hands through her hair and pulled. She settled for turning around and screaming inwardly. Something always had to mess up a wedding, even if it wasn't her own.

The wedding had gone off without a hitch. Everything and anything that was meant to be was there, in place, and unable to break the spell of allure that had cast itself over the audience. One would swear that the heavens had opened up to light their little ceremony; the sun gleaming in all its glory in perfect weather and the sweet scent of the outdoor garden there to lighten their hearts. The guests were alive with spirit and life, and love when Darrel was announced and led down the aisle adorned in white. She couldn't quite keep herself from tearing up a bit then. Waterproof makeup and a handy handkerchief kept her tears under control, until the two men had joined hands at the altar. Their vows were heartfelt and laced with the solemn promise of the truest of loves, causing not only her, but several other guests and the groom himself to start bawling. Despite the water works, the doves flew, the lovers kissed, and the ceremony had descended into one big celebration. The promise of dance, food, and liveliness had everyone cheering and headed further into the garden. The canopy tent that held their party the prior night had been decked out for the reception, which included the services of their deejay and a well-known wedding singer.

Said wedding singer was currently smiling apologetically at the loving couple. Velma stood nearby, unsure of what all this meant. Daphne bit her lip, and Uncle Liam stiffened a long suffering sigh. Scooby regarded the lot of them, and shook his head. It wasn't like he could sing.

But he knew someone who could.

"REY! Rhat arout Raggy?! Or Red!?"

Daphne neatly tripped over her own feet. "Say what?!"

"Well, they **can** sing," Velma said slowly. The more she thought about it, it was the only solution at the moment. She smiled in confidence. "Yeah, we can ask them to do it!"

"Like, do what?"

The pondering group turned to spy Shaggy and Fred approaching them. Daphne bit her lip again, unable to figure out if she was going to drool or gape. Shaggy had taken on a whole new light to him, no longer that scrawny gangly teenager she'd known through childhood. While he was still lanky and tall, he reminded her of a slightly out of reach model, bent on the cool nostalgia of beatnik and alternative living. His hair naturally fell in waves, curled at the ends and stopping at the nape of his neck. It did nothing to hide the love mark there, and he made no efforts to disguise it. His tuxedo had been opted out for a more casual look; a simple olive shirt with rolled up sleeves to the center of his bicep and a tie loosely done under the open collar of his shirt. His shirt was tucked into a dark pant that fell flawlessly over a pair of vintage converse sneakers. He looked half baked, which only threw off pheromones she hadn't noticed before.

Fred wore something similar, only his shirt was crimson and his shoes were actually dress shoes. The vest he wore was a soft pattern of red and black diamonds that hugged and accentuated his broad chest while sophisticating him. That slicked back do of blonde wasn't there now. It hung in a natural way, parted on the right to fall in scattered neatly cut flails of blonde. The rest was tucked behind his ear, unveiling a mark they hadn't seen this morning. His looked a little fresher...and that only kept Daphne from speaking a little longer. They weren't at the wedding, assumed to be sleeping the day away for obvious reasons. She'd forgotten about it, until he snuck up and gently nudged Shaggy on his shoulder. That affection she'd seen as brotherly love was now something more...and her own perverse thoughts kept her from thinking straight.

Velma was quick to grab Fred giving her the once over. "Yeah, I know. I'm freaking hot!" she smirked. He smirked in kind, but allowed himself to be pulled by her insisting hands. "Fred, we need you to do something for us."

"What?"

"He," she said pointing to the waving older gentleman, "Is supposed to sing. He can't. YOU have been volunteered."

"Wait, WHAT?!"

"It's either you or Shaggy, and we know Shaggy can sing," she leered. Shaggy abruptly stiffened and shook his head. "Shaggy..."

"LIKE, NO WAY!" he cried. "Nuh-UH. Like, there's a limit to everything I do...and that is ONE thing I will NOT do. Not **even** for a Scooby Snack."

"Rooby Rack?!"

"Like, later Scoob. Promise."

"So that only leaves you," Velma said. Fred gaped, protesting with a rigidity of his body but unable to deter the unnaturally strong shoves of Velma Dinkely. "Sing on, oh mighty leader!"

"Wait, what am I supposed to sing?!" Fred cried as he was unmercifully shoved on the waiting stage. The deejay sent him an apologetic smile as he handed him the list, left and let the band warm themselves up. Fred scanned the page quickly and blinked. "Excuse me?! I'm supposed to sing these?!"

"You don't know the words?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Then you should have no problem. Good luck!"

"Wait a minute!"

Like most bands, they started automatically. He looked wildly from the right and left, at a loss but stuck with the task. Part of him was appalled, but the more logical piece of him decided this was Velma's way at getting back at him. She and he both knew he was a light sleeper, and that this morning's revelations weren't privy to anyone aside them. He grinned forcefully at her knowing look, vowing to get her back the moment wedding bells rung in her future.

_"All work and no play,  
That's the way it is ain't it?"_

He quickly took the mike in hand, spying the crowd moving in to dance to the sultry upbeat of this song. He grinned a little, hating the fact that he knew this song and how many girls were going to make a grab at Shaggy standing in the midst of it all.

_"There's a rhythm deep inside of you,  
And you must get reacquainted..._

_Ooh..."_

Like he expected, Shaggy was approached. He could feel himself fumbling not to spoil the song, but found no reason to. Shaggy calmly shook his head and headed for the stage. Daphne and Velma were behind him, and Scooby stayed put at the snack table. Free eats, were free eats!

_"When was the last time you danced?  
When was the last time you danced?"_

"Like last night man!" Shaggy called. Fred held out a hand and quickly pulled him up. He didn't let him freeze, opting to fry his nerved and all senses with the subtle move of his hips.

_"Well come rock with baby...  
Dance with me darling...  
Step with me sweet heart...  
The world is watching..."_

And he didn't quite care. The whole world had seen the best of them, the worst of them, and the strangeness that was life. This was just another part of them, another chapter to add to their weird collection of adventures. He absently looked at his watch and noticed that it was just after 12:20 p.m.. It took him eight years to get this close, and twenty-four hours to skip past that barrier being best friends had caused. A new record in being ignorant, he supposed. However it played, he knew one thing.

_"Under an endless sky,  
Wish I could fly away forever..._

_And ever..._

_And the poetry so pure  
When we are on the floor together..."_

He was going to dance with him until the sun faded from their lives. He was going to hold him through the nightmares. He was going to love him through his insecurities. He was going to help heal him when he was hurt. When he was down, he'd pick him up. When he was up, he'd take him higher. When life had left him desolate, he'd be the one to renew the lands that were him. He'd always done this as a friend...but never as a lover.

Shaggy was either going to love him for his devotion or leave him, but it would never waver from this man pressed against him now.

"_It's been a long time..."_

He realized just how much he meant it when the thought of her coming back threatened that happiness.

He was going to beat down the first clawed hand even thinking about touching what had been his unknowingly for the past eight years.

_"When was the last time you danced?  
When was the last time you danced?_

_Well come rock with me baby...  
dance with me darling...  
Step with me sweetheart...  
The world is watching..._"

Yeah, they'd danced last night. Danced past their knowledge of one another and saw things they hadn't allowed each other to see prior to that moment. After last night, there was no going back. Shaggy knew it, and Fred demanded it. No past relationships were going to ruin this spark, not even the promise of her coming back. Not even the hope of their close friend being shattered in the efforts to regain a chance they knew wasn't there. They had to brave this thing together, not alone and wondering or missing someone who was always there. Shaggy nodded gently, promising that he wouldn't back pedal. Fred silently promised not to shove him into anything. They both promised not to let the world and its views kill what little normalcy they had in their lives.

_"Don't deny me any further..._

_Let me have my way..._

_Oooh, come closer_

_Let's dance the night awaaaaay~~_

_Come Rock with me baby_

_DANCE with me Darling..._

_STEP with me Sweetheart..._

_The world is Watching..._

_Ohhhhhh!"_

"You going to kiss him or what?!" Jarrod called.

Maybe. He toyed with the idea until Shaggy stole his breath away. The cat calls coming from their audience spurred the impulsiveness and Shaggy found himself being dipped. Velma's loud "WHOO!" snapped them out of their little daze, but it had the boys smiling at her with the young man who'd attached himself to her hip. Daphne clapped from nearby, squished between her laughing cousin and his blushing and lovable husband. Scooby climbed on the stage and handed Shaggy a piece of the cake he'd managed to snatch, which was promptly half eaten by Fred. He didn't mind it. He simply ate the other half and pretended not to lick his fingers clean.

Fred suppressed the urge to tackle him then and there. "You little..."

"Hmm? You say something Fred?"

He kept a light loving smile to himself as the tempo of the next song hit them. Everyone had grown in their own ways. They both realized this and made one more silent vow: Not to let their new changes disturb the relationship that was them as a whole. Whether it was Mystery Inc. Or "those meddlesome kids", they would always be friends. No matter what.

"Anyone up for a trip to Vegas?"

"Freddie!"

"Just a thought."

And some things would just **never** change.

* * *

Epilogue? YEAH. It's here: s/5517837/1/In-and-Out-of-Reach

Songs are as follows:

**_Moving Mountains_** by: "Usher"  
**_Simple things pt. 2_** by: "Dirty Vegas"  
**_Right here waiting_** by: "Stain'd"  
**_All Nite (Don't Stop)_** by: "Janet Jackson"**_  
Come Over_** by: "Aaliyah"  
**_The Last Time_** by: "Gnarles Barkley"

Again, done in mind with the owner of the Grew Law Database. Girl I owe you a lot.


End file.
